THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


-V- 


,o 


>4S 


X 


%,^ 


\- 


FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA: 


ADVENTDKES 


WlXnm  AND   BEYOND   THE   UNION   LINES: 


EMBRACING  A  GREAT  VARIETY  OP 


FACTS,  IXCIDEXTS,  MD  ROMANCE  OF  THE  WAR. 


iNCLxmiNa 

The  Acthor's  Capture  at  Vicksbueo,  Mat  3,  1863,  while  running  the  Eebel 

Batteries  ;  his  Imprisonment  at  Vicksburg,  Jackson,  Atlanta, 

Richmond,  and  Salisbury;  his  Escape  and  perilous 

Journey  op  Four  Hundred  Miles  to  the 

Union  Lines  at  Knosvtllb. 


JUNIUS  HENRI  BROWNE, 

8FE0IAL   WAB    COBBEBPONDKNT    OF    THB    MBW    TOBK    TBIBUHE. 


Wiit)^   Illustrations. 


HARTFORD : 

0.  D.  CASE  AND  COMPANY. 

CHICAGO:    GEO.  &   C.  W.   SHERWOOD. 

LONDON:    STEVENS    BROTHERS, 

17  Henrietta  Street,  Covent  Garden,  W.  0. 

1865. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S65, 

By  O.  D.  case  &  COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Conrt  of  the  United  States  for  the  District  of 
Connecticut 


TO 

THE  PRIVATE   SOLDIERS  OF  THE  UXION, 

THE    TJNEECOBDED    AND    FAMELESS   HEROES 
OF    THE    TVAR, 

■WHO    DESERVE    THE    ETERNAL    GRATITUDE    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    THET 
HAVE   PEESEEVED, 

THIS   UNPRETENDING   VOLUME 

IS    ADMIRINGLY    INSCRIBED. 


\ 


PREFACE. 


Most  first  Books  either  are,  or  assume  to  be,  written 
at  the  urgent  solicitation  of  that  apocryphal  class  known 
as  Friends. 

Having  a  very  limited  acquaintance  with  that  some- 
what intangible  portion  of  the  community,  I  would  state 
that  this  unpretending  Volume  owes. its  parturition  to 
the  request  of  my  publishers,  who,  unsolicited,  offered 
me  such  terms  as  a  gentleman  of  very  slender  income  (his 
estates  in  Castile  being  entirely  inconvertible  in  Wall 
street),  and  somewhat  expensive  habits,  could  ill  afford 
to  refuse. 

T  had  no  idea,  on  my  return  to  Freedom  and  Civili- 
zation, of  preparing  any  work  for  the  press,  and  But  for 
the  reason  named — the  AYar  being  virtually  at  an  end — 
I  would  have  subsided  into  the  pursuits  of  Peace,  and 
the  regular  duties  of  Journalism.. 

The  contents  of  "Four  Years  in  Secessia"  are,  for 
the  most  part,  pieces  of  patcliwork,  stitched  together 
with  a  needle  that  grew  extremely  rusty  in  the  long 
dampness  of  Rebel  prisons. 

The  little  labor  on  the  book  has  been  hurriedly  and 
irregularly  performed,  under  very  adverse  circumstances  ; 
— few  persons  who  have  not  endured  a  long  and  odious 


Preface. 

confinement  can  nnderstand  liow  completely  it  unfits  tlie 
mind  for  tlie  duties  of  composition  ; — ^yet,  such  as  it  is,  it 
is  offered  with  hesitation,  as  far  below  the  standard  the 
work  might  have  otherwise  attained. 

The  difierent  chapters  are  mainly  but  the  records  of 
personal  observation  and  experience,  without  any  at- 
tempt at  high  coloring  or  desire  for  sensation — merely 
plain  facts  homely  grouped  together;  and  must  gain 
whatever  interest  they  may  possess,  rather  from  accuracy 
of  statement  and  earnestness  of  purpose  than  from  nature 
of  incident  or  method  of  presentation. 

The  Authoe. 

New  York,  May  Ist,  1865. 


ILLUSTEATIONS, 


PAGE 

OUR  CAPTURE  BEFORE  VICKSBURG Frontispiece. 

THE  BOHEMIANS  AS   HOUSEKEEPERS 42 

BOHEMIA  AS  A  BELLIGERENT 66 

GUNBOAT  FIGHT  AT   FORT   PILLOW 110 

UNION  BUSHWHACKERS   ATTACKING  REBEL   CAVALRY 346 

THE    ESCAPED    CORRESPONDENTS    ENJOT^gTG    THE    NEGRO'S 

HOSPITALITY 310 

CONFERENCE      OF      THE      CORRESPONDENTS      WITH       BUSH- 
WHACKERS.    386 

THE  BOHEMIANS  CLIMBING  THE  MOUNTAINS 394 


.♦ 


>, 


OOE"TEI^TS. 


CHArXER  I. 

THE  WAR  CORRESPONDENT. 

His  Anomalous  Position. — A  Ruralist's  Idea  of  a  Bohemian. — How  the  Name 
was  Obtaiied.— Genesis  and  Purpose  of  the  War  Correspondent. — His  Duty 
and  Obligation. — The  DifticuUy  of  his  Task. — Ills  Habits,  Peculiarities,  and. 
Defects. — What  he  Requires  of  the  Service. — His  Just  Claims     .        .        13. 

CHAPTER   II. 

THE  FREMONT  CAMPAIGN. 

Life  in  Jefferson  City,  Mo. — Effect  of  the  Sudden  Change  from  Metropolitan' 
Life. — A  Contrast  to  the  Glory  of  War. — A  Romantic  Soldier. — A  Camp 
Picture. — The  Original  Bohemian  Brigade 23 

CHAPTER  in. 

CAMP-LIFE  AT  SYRACUSE,  MO. 

Effects  of  Camp-Life. — Sentimental  Reflections  on  War. — A  Modem  Penthesilea. — 
Woman's  Military  Influence  Beautifully  Exemphfied. — The  Rural  Females  of 
Missouri. — Their  Unpoetic  Appearance 2L 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A  NIGHT  WITH  THE  FLEAS. 

Unanticipated  Attack. — Inexplicable  Sensations. — Prosaic  Revelation. — Our  In- 
tense Suffering. — A  Novel  Remedy.— Extraordinary  Ride  through  a  Tempest- 
uous Night. — Finale  of  the  Tragi-Comedy 33. 

CHAPTER  V. 

ROMANCE  AND  REALITY  IN  CAMP. 

Conversion  of  a  Fair  Secessionist. — Disadvantage  of  Securing  a  Guard. — A  Grand 
Mule  Concert. — Sonorous  Imitations  of  the  Opera. — High-Art  Jackassical 
Performances. — Terror  Excited  by  the  Unique  Entertainment      .        .        38 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

ON   THE   MARCH. 

Brutality  of  Officers. — Shameful  Treatment  of  a  'Woman. — Change  of  Base.— A 
Model  Missouri  Hotel. — llesumptiou  of  the  March. — Bohemian  Philosophy. — 
Its  Necessity  in  the  Field ^      .        .        .42 

CHAPTER  VH. 

WILSON'S   CREEK. 

Yisit  to  the  Battle-Ground. — Its  Appearance. — Cause  of  Sigel's  Disconfiture. — 
Scenes  on  the  Field. — Ghastly  Spectacles. — The  Sleeping  Camp.— A  Skyey 
Omen 46 

CHAPTER  VIH. 

ZAGONTI'S   RIDE   TO   DEATH. 

'Charge  of  the  Fremont  Body-Guard. — Its  Desperate  Character. — The  Heavy  Loss. 
— Scene  of  the  Engagement. — Description  of  the  Battle. — Progress  of  the 
Ride— Flight  of  the  Foe.— After  the  Struggle     .....        49 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    RETROGRADE   MOVEMENT. 

:The  Return  to  Rolla. — A  Ghastly  Jest. — A  Brace  of  Fair  Bohemians. — The 
Discrediting  Eflect  of  Camp  Attire. — A  Night  in  a  Barn. — Potency  of  an 
Ajmy  Pass 55 

CHAPTER  X. 

SECESSION    IN    MISSOURL 

'The  Femini^je  Secessionists  of  St.  Louis. — Their  Parrot-like  Raving. — Their  Re- 
semblance to  Barnaby  Rudge's  Raven. — Ilarmlessness  of  Petticoated  Traitors. 
— Sale  of  Rebel  Property. — Curious  Scene. — A  Mysterious  Article  .        .61 

CHAPTER  XI. 

BATTLE  OP  DONELSON. 

.March  from  Fort  Henry  to  the  Field. — Troubles  of  the  Correspondents. — DiflBculty 
of  Subsistence. — Courage  of  our  Soldiers. — Examples  of  Sacrifice  and  Heroism. 
— Gallant  Charge. — Amateur  Sharpshooting. — Mortification  of  the  Enemy 
after  the  Surrender. — Desperation  of  the  Rebels. — Repudiation  of  the  Five  to 
One  Boast. — Ghastly  Wounds. — Touching  Incidents     ....        66 

CHAPTER  XH. 

AFTER    THE    BATTLE. 

;Extracts  from  my  Note-Book. — Sensations  of  a  Reasoning  Man  Under  Fire. — A 
Novel  in  Brief. — A  Faithless  Woman  and  a  Sacrificed  Lover. — A  JuvenQe 


CONTENTS.  5 

Hero. — Difficulty  of  Dying  on  tho  Field. — Ultra-professional  Correspondents. 
Ludicrous  lucidouts  of  their  Journalistic  Devotion       .         .         .         .         18 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OCCUPATION    OF    COLUMBUS. 

The  Departure  for  the  Rebel  Stron^'hold.— Uncertainty  of  the  Situation.— Doubts 
and  Apprehensions. — Pleasant  Discovery. — Enthusiasm  on  Board  the  Flotilla. 
— Abortive  Defenses  of  tho  Enemy. — Evidences  of  Excessive  Orthodoxy. — 
Superstition  and  Swagger. — Pikes  and  Long  Knives  in  Abundance      .         87 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

BATTLE    OF    PEA    RIDGE. 

The  Three  Days'  Fighting.— Desperate  Struggle  for  tho  Possession  of  tho  Train. 
— Sigel's  Heroism. — Tremendous  Contest  for  the  Guns. — Uand-to-Hand  Com- 
bats.— An  Epic  of  War. — Triumph  of  the  Republic. — Retreat  of  the  Rebels,  93 

CHAPTER  XV. 
PROSE   AND    POESY    OF    "WAR. 

Facts  and  Fancies  from  Pea  Ridge. — The  Preservative  Power  of  Tobacco. — A 
Song-Book  doing  tlie  Work  of  a  Bible. — :Mysterious  Instance  of  Sympathy. 
— Another  Fabian  dei  Franclii. — Painful  Fate  of  a  Union  Lieutenant. — A 
Reckless  Indianian. — A  Magnanimous  Rebel. — A  Gallant  Iowa  Colonel,      103 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
INDIAN    ATROCITIES. 

Aboriginal  Outrages  and  Barbarities  at  Pea  Ridge. — Minds  of  the  Savages 
Poisoned  by  the  Rebels. — Wliisky  and  Gunpowder  Stimulant. — The  Indians 
Scalp  Friend  and  Foe  Alike. — Slaughter  of  the  Red  Men  by  their  own 
Allies 109 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

BENIGHTED    ARKANSAS. 

Semi-Barbarism  of  the  People. — Benton  County  as  an  Example. — Extent  of  the 
Conscription. — Modern  Harpies  in  the  Shape  of  Women. — The  Loyal  Senti- 
ment of  the  State. — Chivalrous  Mode  of  its  Suppression      .        .        .         113 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DOWN   THE    MISSISSIPPL 

A  Weary  Siege. — Inanencss  of  Existence  on  the  Flotilla. — Monotony  and  Dreari- 
ness of  the  Scenes.— Melancholy  Character  of  the  Mighty  River.— Out  in  the 
Night. — .\  Celestial  Symbol. — A  Canine  Convert. — A  Perplexed  Correspond- 
ent, and  Would-be-Bohemian 117 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

INAUGURATION  OF  BATTERY-RUNNING. 

The  Carondelet  and  Pittsburg  Defying  the  Guns  of  Island  No.  1 0.— Preparations 
for  the  Hazardous  Enterprise. — Scenes  on  the  Flag-Ship. — Departure  of  the 
Pittsburg. — An  Anxious  Period. — The  Artillery  of  the  Rebels  and  of  Heaven 
— Thunder,  Lightning,  and  Gunpowder. — Safe  Passage  of  the  Union  Ves- 
sels         123 

CHAPTER  XX. 

SURRENDER  OP  ISLAND  NO.  X. 

A  Mysterious  Vessel  astern. — Preparations  for  Battle  on  the  Benton. — Prop- 
osition from  the  Enemy  to  Surrender. — Unconditional  Terms  asked. — The 
Rebel  Prisoners  and  their  Opinions. — Curious  Scene. — Feminine  Accom- 
panhnents  to  a  Siege 128 

CHAPTER  XXL 

SHILOH. 

Desperate  Determination  of  the  South. — Confidence  of  the  Enemy. — Cause  of 
the  Early  Action. — The  First  Day's  Fighting. — Fearful  Struggle. — Intensity 
of  the  Excitement. — Recklessness  of  Life. — Panic-stricken  Regiments. — Arri- 
val of  General  BuelL— The  Second  Day's  Fighting.— Defeat  of  the  Foe  .     135 

CHAPTER  XXH. 

OFF    FORT     PILLOW. 

Ravages  of  the  Musquitos. — Their  Secession  Proclivities. — Battles  between  the 
Insects  and  Correspondents. — Anecdote  of  General  Pope. — Discovery  of  an 
Unexpected  Ofi&cial 147 

CHAPTER  XXHL 

LIFE  ON  THE  FLOTILLA. 

A  Profane  Captain. — Piety  of  Commodore  Foote. — Interruption  of  Religious 
Service. — Easter  Sunday  on  the  Flag-si lip. — Horrible  Persecutions  of  Unionists 
in  Tennessee  and  Arkansas. — A  Loyal  Man  Crucified. — Cold-Blooded  Mur- 
ders in  the  South 151 

CHAPTER  XXrV. 

FEATURES  OF  SECESSIA. 

Melancholy  Suicide  of  a  Slave. — Triumph  of  the  American  Eagle. — Reminiscence 
of  John  A.  Murrell — His  Decease  a  Loss  to  the  Secession  Cause    .        .156 


CONTENTS.  7 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

MATING   IN   ARKANSAS. 

A  Beautiful  Dav.— Prodigality  of  Nature.— Assault  of  Gnats  and  Sand-Flies.— 
Ridiculous  Adventures.— An  Altered  Physiognomy.— .Saturnine  Reflections^— 
A  New  Jeremiad 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

COMMODORE  FOOTE'S  FAREWELL. 

Impressive  Scene  on  the  Flag-Ship.— Address  of  the  Commodore.— Emotion  of 
the  Sailors.— Exciting  Tug-Chase 1^ 

CHAPTER  XXVn. 
NATAL  ENGAGEMENT  AT  FORT  PILLOW. 

Unexpected  Appearance  of  the  Hostile  Vessels.— Commencement  of  the  Attack 
-Character  of  the  Enemy's  Boats.— Warm  Work  on  a  Warm  Day.— The  Rebel 


Sharpshooters.— A  Gallant  Captain  and  Determined  Lieutenant.— Explosion  ot 
a  Rebel  Ram. — A  Paymaster 
Victory  Decided  in  our  Favor 


bnarpsnooiers. — a  vjauaui,  v^api^m  a^u  i^^idu...v,v.^.--.^  --  i 

a  Rebel  Ram.— A  Paymaster  acting  as  Gunner.— Incidents  of  the  *ig'"-~ 


CHAPTER  XXVHL 

FALL  OF  MEMPHIS. 

A  Gasconading  RebeL-The  BrQlinnt  Gunboat  Fight-The  Vessels  Engag«d.- 
The  Nautical  Situation.— Comm..-ucement  of  the  Action.— Union  Rams  Taking 
Part  —Increased  Warmth  of  the  Contest.— Sinking  of  the  General  LovelL— 
Magnanimity  of  our  Seamen.-Flight  of  the  Southern  Commodore.-Explosion 
of  the  Je/.  nomi)50/i.-Uarmony  of  Northerners  and  Southerners  after  the 
City's  Occupation 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  EXPEDITION  UP  WHITE  RIVER. 

Its  Object  and  Strength.— Cautious  Progress.— Character  of  the  Stream.--Dcs- 
peration  of  the  Arkansans.-Progress  of  the  Fleet.-The  Engagement  near 
St  Charles.— Position  of  the  Hostile  Fortifications.— E.xplosion  of  the  Movind 
City  —Terrible  Destruction  by  Steam.— Horrible  Scenes  of  SufiFermg.— inmi- 
maiiity  and  Barbarity  of  the  Rebels.— Their  Defeat  and  Punishment        .     i  J-s 

* 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  BRAGG-BUELL   CAMPAIGN. 

Trip  from  Louisville  to  Frankfort.— The  occupation  of  the  Kentucky  Capital  \>j 


8  CONTENTS. 

the  Enemy. — Sudden  Conversion  of  Romantic  "Women  to  Loyalty. — The  In- 
auguration of  the  Pseudo-Governor. — Sudden  Exodus  of  the  Usurpers;  their 
Strange  Self-Dehision. — Boliemian.s  in  tlie  Horse  Market. — The  Battle  of  Per- 
ryvilie. — A  Journalistic  Rebel  Colonel. — Sketcli  of  John  II.  Morgan.  .         201 

CIIArTER   XXXI. 

THE   RAM  ARKANSAS  DEFYING   OUR   FLEET. 

The  E.xpedition  up  the  Tazoo. — Unexpected  Meetinjr  c\f  the  Rebel  ifonstcr. — 
Her  Engagement  with  the  Union  Vessels. — Their  Discomfiture  and  Retreat. — 
Her  Passage  of  tlio  Union  Flotilla. — Her  Exposure  to  a  Terrible  Fire. — Ex- 
plosion on  Board  the  Lancaster. — Casualties  on  both  Sides. — Bohemian  Re- 
flections on  Rftnning  Batteries 213 

CHAPTER  XXXIT. 

PLANTATION   LIFE   IN   THE   SOUTH. 

Expedition  in  Search  of  Cotton,  Cattle,  and  Guerrillas. — Plantations  along  the 
Mississippi. — Anxiety  of  the  Negroes  for  Freedom. — Sad  Scenes  on  Shore. — 
An  African  Andromache. — A  Miscegenated  Southern  Family      .         .         224 

CIIArTER  XXXIII. 

CAPTURE   OF  THE   TRIBUNE   CORRESPONDENTS. 

Reflections  on  our  Return  to  Freedom. — The  Effect  of  Imprisonment. — Rapidity 
of  Restoration  to  One's  Normal  Condition. — Running  the  Batteries  of  Yicks- 
burg. — Incident  of  the  Undertaking. — Terrible  Fire  from  the  Rebel  Strong- 
hold.— Complete  "Wreck  of  our  Expedition. — Brilliant  Prospects  for  Dying. — 
Adventures  of  the  Bohemians. — Grotesque  Appearance  of  the  Prisoners,  229 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

OUR   IMPRISONMENT    AT    YICKSBURG. 

Consignment  to  a  Mississippi  Jail. — Repulsivencss  of  the  Place. — Character  of 
the  Inmates. — Rebel  Idea  of  Comfortable  Quarters. — A  Fragrant  Spot. — 
Parole  of  the  Captives. — Our  Removal  to  the  Court-IIouse. — Courteous  Treat- 
ment— Kindness  of  the  Citizens. — Peculiarities  of  Union  Men. — Miscompre- 
hension of  the  Enemy 2-10 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AT   JACKSON    AND   ATLANTA. 

The  Marble-Yard  Prison. — Visit  to  the  Appeal  Office.— Kindness  of  the  Editors. — 
Tremendous  Excitement  and  Panic  at  the  Mississippi  Capital. — A  Terrified  and 
Fugacious  Mayor. — The  ilississij^jnaH  Office  Preparing  for  an  Exodus. — 
Curiosity  Excited  by  the  Yankees. — Soulliern  Fondness  for  Discussion  and 
Rhodomontade. — Our  Continuous  Inflictions  along  the  Route. — Incidents  of 
the  Journey. — The  Whitehall  Street  Prison. — A  Pertmacious  Hibernian. — 
Abusive  Editorial  in  a  Newspaper,  and  its  Effects      ....        247 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAI^ER  XXXVI. 

THE    LIBBY   PRISON. 

Arrival  at  "Rkhmond. — Our  Reception  from  the  Union  Officora. — Mistaken  Idea 
about  lliiiiKin  Kmluranoe. — The  First  Shock  in  Prison. — Entoinolofijical  Re- 
searches.— Sickness  and  Sentiment. — Violation  of  The  7^-/&Mne  Correspondents' 
Paroles — Character  of  the  Rebel  Commissioner. — Determination  of  the  Enemy 
to  Hold  ud  to  the  End  of  the  "War 257 

•      CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE   LIBBY   PRISON. 

Arrival  and  Release  of  Union  Officers. — Therapeutic  Power  of  the  Fall  of  Vicks- 
burp. — Its  Wholesome  P]floct  on  the  Prisoners. — Gradual  Resignation  to  Con- 
finement.—Means  of  Killing  Time. — Journalistic  Desire  to  Write,  and  the 
Impossibility  of  its  Indulgence. — Exhibition  of  tlio  Loyal  Captives. — Summei." 
Costumes.— Cruelty  of  our  Keeper.s. — Petty  Meanness  of  the  Commandant. — 
The  Drawing  of  Lots. — Horror  of  the  Scene. — Barbarous  Treatment  of  Citi- 
zens.— Consideration  Shown  the  Officers. — Removal  of  The  Tribune  Corre- 
spondents  1        263 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE    KITCHEN    CABINET   AT   THE   LEBBT. 

Disappointment  and  Disgust  in  Prison  Life. — The  Union  Officers  as  Servants  and 
Scullions. — Journalistic  Cooking  and  its  Trials. — The  First  Breakfast. — Hor- 
rors of  the  Culinary  Art.— Interior  View  of  tlie  Kitchen. — Grotesque  and 
Mortifying  Scenes.^Battles  of  the  Saucepans  and  Skillets. — Complaint, 
Clamor,  and  Confusion 277 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

CELL-LIFE    IN    RICHMOND. 

Prison  within  a  Prison. — Full  Appreciation  of  Sterne's  Starling. — Evil  Destiny  of 
The  Tribune  Correspondents. — One  of  our  many  Failures  and  its  Result. — 
Interior  View  of  a  Rebel  Cell. — The  Rare  Society  we  found  there. — Glance  at 
the  Gross  Corruption  in  Secessia. — Novel  Means  of  making  Confederate  Cur- 
rency.— Horrors  of  Southern  Dungeons 281 

CHAPTER  XL. 

CASTLE   THUNDER. 

Contrast  between  the  Castle  and  Libby. — A  Southern  Bombastes. — Cruel  Treat- 
ment of  Prisoners. — Absurd  Charges  against  Innocent  Men. — Tlie  Prison  a 
Regular  Ba.stile. — Energetic  and  Enterprising  Captives. — Difficulty  of  Obtain- 
ing Supi)lies  Sent  from  the  North. — Peculation  and  Plundering  of  the  Chiv- 
alry.— Their  Begging  and  Trading  Proclivities. — Their  Ridiculous  .Assumptions 
and  Exposure. — Bohemian  Arrivals. — Comparative  Comfort  of  the  Corre- 
spondents.— Rebel  Aasiety  to  Purchase  Treasury  Notes. — Campaigning  with 
the  Small  Pox    .        .        .        • 295 


XO  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XLL 

EXECUTION  OP  A  LOYAL  TENNESSEAN. 

Brief  Account  of  his  Antecedents. — His  Attachment  to  the  Union  Cause. — His 
Betrayal. — Ilis  Cruel  Treatment  in  Prison. — A  Second  Judas. — Conviction  on 
False  Evidence. — His  Wretclied  Condition. — The  Closing  Scene. — An  Inhuman 
Detective. — Revolting  Spectacle  at  the  Gallows 307 

CHAPTER  XLH. 

SALISBURY   PENITENTIARY. 

Our  Removal  from  Riclimond  to  Salisbury. — Character  of  our  Companions. — 
Troubles  of  Transportation. — Strange  Scene  and  Sensation  at  Petersburg. — 
Arrival  at  tlie  North  Carohna  Prison. — Interior  View  of  our  Quarters. — A 
Heavy  Blow  for  my  Confrere. — The  Horrors  of  Southern  Captivity. — Difficulty 
of  their  Realization 313 

CHAPTER  XLHI. 

PHOTOGRAPHS   OP  HORROR. 

Great  Influx  of  Prisoners  at  Salisbury. — Barbarity  of  the  Ea3my. — Intense 
Suffering  and  Wholesale  Murder  of  the  Captives. — Pen  a'i  ;tures  of  the 
Prison. — Agonizing  Scenes. — Eiilistment  of  our  Soldiers  in  the  Rebel  Ser- 
vice.— Shuddering  Strangeness  of  the  Past. — The  Secretary  of  War  Respon- 
sible for  the  Sacrifice  of  Ten  Thousand  Lives     321 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

TUNNELS   AND    TUNNELING. 

Respect  for  Tunnels. — Their  attractive  and  absorbing  Power. — Tunneling  at 
Castle  Thunder. — Difficulty  of  their  Construction. — The  Libby  Prison  Enter- 
prise.— Uncertainty  of  their  Completion. — Frequency  of  E.xcavations  at  Salis- 
bury.— Desires  to  obtain  Subterranean  Freedom. — Ideal  Regrets        .        333 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

MUGGING. 

The  Meaning  of  the  Term. — Who  the  Muggers  were. — Their  Plan  of  Operation. 
— Character  of  their  Victims. — Indifference  of  the  Authorities  on  the  Subject. 
— Flogging  of  Northern  Deserters. — Their  Cruel  Treatment. — Mugging  in 
Richmond  and  Salisbury. — Its  Reduction  to  a  System. — Our  Own  Soldiers  in 
the  Business. — A  Vigilance  Committee  Proposed 339 

CHAPTER  XLVL 

DESPERATE   ESCAPE. 

Constant  Effort  of  Prisoners  for  Freedom. — Practicability  versus  Planning. — A 
Trio  of  Desperadoes. — Cause  of  their  Extraordinary  Gayety. — Their  Remark- 
able Exodus 347 


CONTENTS.  11 

CEAPTER  XLYII. 

TTNIOX  BUSHWHACKERS. 

CauPO  of  Bushwhackers. — Repiilsivcness  of  the  Custom. — Its  Excuse. — Tlicir 
Sufleriugs  and  Wrongs. — Collisions  with  Home-Guards. — Victories  ot  Union 
jjen. — Terror  of  their  Name. — Tlie  Vendetta  in  the  Mountainis. — Virtues  of 
tlio  Southern  Loyalists. — War  of  Extermination. — A  Fearful  Avenger,       350 

CILVrTER   XLMII. 

THE  ESCAPE. 

Our  Efforts  Useless  in  the  Salisbury  Hospitals. — Bohemian  Talent  for  Forgery. — 
Mode  of  our  Exodus  from  the  Penitentiary. — Sensations  of  Freedom. — Our 
P'irst  Night  in  a  Barn. — A  Long  Fast. — .V  Rebel  Officer  Sound  on  the  Main 
Question. — Commeneomeut  of  the  Journey  toward  Liberty. — Our  First  Two 
Nights'  March. — Hunger,  Cold,  and  Exhaustion. — Our  Assistance  from  the 
Negroes 358 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE  MARCH  TO  FREEDOM. 

The  Third,  Fourth,  and  Fifth  Nights  Out. — Missing  the  Road. — Extremely  Cold 
Weather. — Our  SuHeriugs  in  a  Barn. — Tlie  Slaves  our  Faithful  Friends. — 
Torture  of  the  Boot  Revived. — Our  Pursuit  and  Masterly  Retreat. — Our  Re- 
inforcement with  Mules  and  Whisky. — Incidents  along  the  Route. — Arrival 
in  Wilkes  County.— The  Haven  of  Rest 369 

ClIAriER   L. 

THE  HAVEN  OF  REST. 

The  Union  Settlement  in  Wilkea  County. — Frequent  Change  of  Base. — Christmas 
in  a  Bam. — Ghostly  Marches. — Alarms  and  Adventures  in  Yadkin  Coimty. — 
A  Boliemian  Model  Artist. — An  Eventful  Ni.^rht. — Storm  and  Sentiment. — 
Love-Making  in  a  Tempest. — Parting  with  our  Loyal  Friends. — Their  Devo- 
tion and  Regret. — Battles  between  Unionists  and  Rebel  Home-Guards. — In- 
extinguishable Fidelity  of  the  People 377 

CIIAl'TER  LI. 

THE   MARCH   ONWARD. 

Accession  of  Escaped  Prisoners. — Resumption  of  our  Journey. — Excessive 
Roughness  of  the  Route. — Character  of  North  Carolina  Roads. — Flanking  of 
Wilkesboro'. — Losing  our  Waj'. — Crossing  tlie  Yadkin. — Skeptical  Women. — 
Interview  with  Bu.=hwhackerR. — Consoling  Counsel. — Passage  of  the  Blue 
Ridge. — Hard  March  over  the  Mountains. — Narrow  Escape  from  Union 
Rides. — Coutrachctory  Reports  about  our  Lines  .....         386 

ClIAriER   LI  I. 

THE   HEGIRA   IN   EAST   TENNESSEE. 
Traveling  m  that  Region. — Passage  of  the  Piney  and  Stone  Mountains. — Cro88- 

2 


12  CONTENTS. 

lug  tlie  TVataiij^a  River. — Invitation  to  a  Frolic. — Peculiar  Rca.son  for  our  Dec- 
lination.— Recklessness  Engendered  by  our  Situation. — Meeting  with  Dan 
Ellis,  tlie  Pdot,  and  his  Tuny. — His  Kindness  and  Generosity. — The  Efleet 
of  Apple  Brandy. — Mysterious  Disappearance  of  a  Bohemian. — Severe  March- 
ing.— Straui  on  the  Nervous  System. — Reports  of  the  Rebels  in  our  Vicinity. 
— A  Valuable  Steed  and  his  Fate. — Anxiety  of  our  Guides  to  Meet  the 
Enemy 399 

CIIArTER   LIT  I. 

DAX   ELLIS,   THE   FAMOUS  PILOT. 

Sketch  of  his  Life  and  Career. — His  Uncompromising  Loyalty. — EfiTorts  to  Sup- 
press Him. — His  Success  as  a  Pilot. — Mode  of  Joining  his  Expeditions. — His 
Adventures  and  Narrow  Escapes. — His  Attachment  to  his  Carbine. — His 
Opinion  of  the  Confederacy. — A  Rebel  OlUcer's  Views  of  his  Usefulness  to 
the  Union  Cause •        .        ,        409 


CUAPTER  LIV. 

THE  NAMELESS   HEROINE— UNDER   THE   STARS  AND  STRIPES 
ONCE   MORE. 

Pursuit  of  tlie  Enemy. — Alarm  and  Separation  of  our  Party. — Our  Fair  Guide. — 
Appearances  and  Antecedents.— Our  Continued  March. — Conliscation  of 
Horses. — Our  Last  N^ght  Out. — Sensations  on  Approaching  the  Union  Lines. 
— Chagrin  of  the  Rebels  at  our  Escape. — Their  Absurd  Stories  about  the 
Departed  Bohemians  .        .        .        .        • 417 

CHAPTER   LV. 

THE  SOUTH  AND  THE  WAR. 

The  Popular  Idea  of  the  South. — Its  Fallaciousness. — Character  of  the  South- 
erners.— Tlieir  Best  Societ}-. — .Slavery  and  its  Pernicious  Influence. — The 
Real  Cause  of  the  Rebellion. — The  Great  Revolution  in  Pubhc  Opinion. — Dis- 
graceful History  of  the  Past. — Our  National  Atonement     .         .         .         432 

CHAPTER   LVI. 

THE   FUTURE   OF   THE   SOUTH. 

Its  Undeveloped  Rcf=ources. — Its  TVealthy  Planters  and  the  Northern  Farmers. — 
Slave  Labor  and  Its  Defects. — The  Bliglitiug  Efleet  of  the  Peculiar  lustitu- 
tiuu. — Contrast  between  tlie  Free  and  Slave  States. — Occupation  of  Secessia 
by  the  Yankees. — The  Ciianges  Consequent  thereupon. — The  Much- Vexed 
Negro  Questiou. — The  Rights  of  the  Frecduien  .         .         .         ,         .         441 

Conclusion 447 


FOUR  YEARS   IN    SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   WAR   CORRESPONDENT. 

His  Anomalous  Position. — A  Ruralist's  Idea  of  a  Bohemian. — How  the  Name 
was  obtained. — Genesis  and  Purpose  of  the  War  Correspondeut. — His  Duty 
and  Obh'gation. — The  Difficulty  of  his  Task. — His  Habits,  Peculiarities,  and 
Defects. — What  he  requires  of  the  Service. — His  Just  Claims,  &c. 

During  the  few  days  I  liave  passed  in  tlie  Free  States 
since  the  breaking  out  of  the  Rebellion,  I  have  been  so 
often  questioned  about  the  province,  purpose,  and  habits 
of  a  War  Correspondent,  that  I  deem  it  well,  in  the  initial 
chapter  of  this  volume,  to  state  what  manner  of  animal  he 
is,  and  what  are  his  peculiarities. 

That  the  War  Correspondent  is  a  hybrid,  neither  a 
soldier  nor  a  citizen  ;  with  the  Army,  but  not  of  it ;  is 
present  at  battles,  and  often  participating  in  them,  yet 
without  any  rank  or  recognized  existence,  has  mystified 
not  a  few,  and  rendered  his  position  as  anomalous  as  un- 
desirable. 

"Do  you  belong  to  the  Army  ?"  inquired  a  bumpkin, 
riding  up  beside  myself  and  a  couple  of  journalistic  com- 
panions, as  we  were  moving  toward  Fayetteville  during 


U  FOUPw   YEARS   IN  SECESSIA. 

the  Bragg-Buell  campaign  in  Kentucky,  in  the  autumn 
of  18G2.  "Yes,"  wastlie  answer.  "Are  you  soldi(n-s?" 
"No."  "Are  you  officers?"  "No."  "  Are  you  sutlers  ?" 
"  No. "  "  What  are  you,  then  f '  "  War  Correspondents. ' ' 
" Oh,  that's  what  you  are,  is  it ?"  and  after  this  comment 
on  our  response,  he  seemed  lost  in  reflection  the  most  pro- 
found. Fully  a  minute  must  have  passed,  when  his  face 
brightened,  and  he  seemed  to  have  solved  some  mental 
problem.  "  Oh,  well,  boys,  you're  all  right.  War 
Correspondents,  eh  ?  Why,  they're  the  fellows  that 
fought  in  the  Revolution!" 

Droll  idea  that  of  the  Bohemians,  as  they  have  been 
christened,  from  their  nomadic,  careless,  half-literary, 
half-vagabondish  life;  but  not  much  more  so  than  far 
more  intelligent  persons  entertain  of  them.  What  they 
are,  and  what  they  do,  I  will  endeavor  to  explain. 

The  War  Correspondent  is  the  outgrowth  of  a  very 
modern  civilization  ;  though  Xenophon  and  Julius  Csesar 
were  early  examples  of  the  profession.  They,  however, 
told  the  story  of  their  own  deeds,  and  the  nineteenth- 
century  Bohemians  narrate  the  acts  of  others ;  make 
their  name  and  fame  without  themselves  gaining  any 
glory. 

They  are  the  outgrowth  of  the  great  and  constantly 
augmenting  power  of  the  Press,  and  were  first  fully 
developed  and  their  influence  felt  during  the  Crimean 
contest.  There  were  War  Correspondents  before  that 
day :  in  the  Naj^oleonic  struggle  for  universal  domina- 
tion, and  in  our  own  little  affair,  as  it  now  appears,  with 
Mexico  ;  but,  until  the  time  mentioned,  it  had  not  become 
a  regular  and  recognized  department  of  military-civic  life. 


THE  WAR  CORRESPONDENT.  15 

Since  the  first  gun  discliarged  at  Fort  Sumter  awoke  the 
Ameriran  woi-hl  to  -"arms,  War  Correspondence  on  this 
side  of  tlie  Athmtic  has  heen  as  much  an  avocation  as 
practising  haw  or  selling  dry  goods.  Every  newsi)aper, 
of  prominence  in  the  metropolitan  cities,  has  had  its  Corre- 
spond<^nts  in  the  field  and  "with  the  Navy.  No  army  in 
the  East  or  West  but  has  had  a  journalistic  representa- 
tive. No  expedition  of  unportance  has  set  out  without 
its  writing  medium  between  it  and  New  York,  Phila- 
delphia, Boston,  Cincinnati,  Chicago,  and  St.  Louis. 

The  War  Correspondent  is  the  proper  and  natural 
medium  between  the  Army  and  Navy  and  the  people  at 
home,  and  ought  to  be,  and  is  generally,  the  purest,  be- 
cause the  only  unprejudiced  medium  between  the  military 
and  civU  phases  of  existence.  He  only  has.  as  a  general 
thing — and  there  should  be  no  exceptions — no  friends  to 
reward,  and  no  foes  to  punish.  He  is  at  his  post  to  relate 
what  he  sees ;  to  applaud  valor  and  merit  wherever 
found  ;  to  point  out  abuses  and  blunders  that  would  not 
otherwise  be  reached,  save  through  the  endless  duration 
of  military  investigations  and  courts-martial.  His  duty  is 
to  illustrate  the  situation  so  far  as  is  prudent ;  to  describe 
the  movements,  actions,  and  combinations  of  the  forces ; 
in  a  word,  to  photograph  the  life  and  spirit  of  the  com- 
batants for  the  benefit  of  the  great  Public,  united  to  them 
by  blood  and  sympathy,  and  who  thrill  and  suffer  witli 
the  gallant  warriors,  and  mourn  over  and  honor  the  heroic 
dead. 

Such  being  the  duty  and  obligation — and  it  should  be 
a  solemn  one — of  the  Correspondent,  he  has  as  much  place 
and  fitness  in  the  field  as  the  Commander-in-Chief ;  and  is 


10  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

as  much  entitled  to  consideration.  That  he  is  not  what 
he  should  be  often,  is  true  of  him,  as  it  is  of  every  other 
class ;  and  that  manj  of  his  profession  have,  by  unworthy 
conduct,  reflected  discredit  upon  its  members,  is  equally 
true.  The  misfortune  is,  that  tlie  unworthy,  by  their 
assurance,  carelessness,  and  lack  of  principle,  give  such 
false  impressions  of  the  entire  tribe,  that  I  marvel  not  a 
most  wholesome  prejudice  exists  against  them  on  the  part 
of  many  officers. 

The  ill-starred  Bohemian  has  a  most  delicate  and  difficult 
task  to  perform.  He  must  do  his  duty,  and  yet  offend  no 
one.  He  must  praise,  but  not  censure.  He  must  weave 
chaplets  of  roses  without  thorns  for  the  brows  of  vanity, 
and  applaud  modest  merit  without  wounding  pompous 
conceit.  Every  thing  is  expected  of  him — impossibilities 
and  virtues  more  than  human.  Few  give  him  commend- 
ation ;  yet  many  are  willing  to  denounce  him.  "What  he 
does  well  passes  in  silence ;  what  he  does  ill  is  blazoned 
to  his  shame. 

War  Correspondence  is  a  most  thankless  oflice.  The 
Correspondent  may  do,  and  dare,  and  suffer ;  but  wiio 
yields  him  credit  ?  If  he  die  in  the  service  by  disease  or 
casualt}^,  it  is  thought  and  declared  by  many  that  he  had 
no  business  there.  The  officers  frequently  dislike  him, 
because  they  have  not  received  what  they  conceive  to  be 
their  meed  of  praise ;  and  the  people  do  not  appreciate 
him.  So,  on  the  Avhole,  he  is  always  between  Sylla  and 
Charybdis,  and  never  avoids  one  without  encountering 
the  other. 

No  disposition  have  I  to  laud  my  profession  ;  but  I  do 
think  its  members  are  unkindly  and  ungratefully  treated. 


THE  WAR   CORRESPONDENT.  17 

I  have  known  many  of  tkem  intimatc4y,  of  course ;  and 
while  I  hav(^  been  called  to  blush  for  some,  I  can  testify- 
to  the  high  and  noble  qualities  of  more. 

As  a  class  they  are  brave,  loyal,  talented,  and  honorable 
gentlemen  ;  a  little  too  prone,  perhaps,  to  recklessness  of 
conduct  and  statement,  and  unduly  sensitive  about  their 
ovrn  dignity  and  tlu*  importance  of  the  Press.  They  believe 
implicitly  in  the  aphorism  :  Cedant  arma  togcc,  and  do  not 
always  understand  that  the  customs  of  Peace  are  incom- 
patible with  the  exigencies  of  War.  Yet,  in  the  main, 
they  perfonn  their  duty  conscientiously,  and  deserve  more 
kindly  of  the  Ai*my,  the  Navy,  and  the  general  Public,  than 
they  receive. 

'  The  worst  feature  of  their  profession  is — and  they  deplore 
it  as  much  as  any  one — they  are  compelled,  from  the  great 
competition  in  respect  to  news,  to  write  up  their  accounts 
so  rapidly,  and  forward  them  so  early,  that  correctness  of 
statement  and  excellence  of  style  are  often  precluded. 
When  they  write  their  letters,  as  I  have  seen  them,  in  the 
midst  of  action  ;  on  their  knee  and  upon  the  ground  ;  in 
crowded  railway  cars  and  on  thronged  transports  ;  under 
every  variety  of  adverse  circumstance,  I  have  wondered, 
and  still  wonder,  at  their  fluency,  propriety,  and  exactness. 
They  certainly  accomplish  marvels,  considering  their  sur- 
roundings and  facilities,  and  at  least  suggest  what  they 
might  do  if  leisure  and  opportunity  were  given  them. 

The  Correspondents  liave  figured  in  the  casualties  again 
and  again  ;  have  been  killed,  and  wounded,  and  captured ; 
have,  perhaps,  had  quite  their  share  of  the  accidents  of 
war.  Yet,  on  the  whole,  they  have  been  rather  fortunate, 
for  they  go  so  recklessly  hither  and  thither  on  the  march 


18  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

and  in  action,  Tvhorever  their  humor  or  fancy  prompts, 
that  it  seems  strange  a  larger  number  have  not  lost  life, 
limb,  and  freedom. 

They  have  splendid  opportunities  for  observation,  being 
a  privileged  body,  under  no  orders,  and  consequently  at 
liberty  to  roam  when  and  where  they  please.  They  have 
probably  seen  more  of  the  romance  of  the  War  than  any 
other  class  of  men  in  the  Army — much  of  which  they  have 
not  given  to  the  public,  and  which  they  cannot  give  con- 
veniently or  prudently  until  the  struggle  is  over. 

They  usually  enter  some  officer's  mess,  on  taking  the 
field  ;  have  their  own  horses ;  pay  their  proportion  of  the 
expenses  ;  and  live  exactly  as  the  officers  do,  except  that 
they  are  not  subject  to  orders.  During  a  battle  they  can 
go  where  they  list — to  the  skirmish  line  or  to  the  rear  ;  to 
the  right  or  left  wing  ;  with  the  infantry  or  artillery. 

If  they  have  any  fondness — and  many  of  them  have — 
for  fighting,  they  can  always  be  accommodated.  I  have 
more  than  once  seen  them  in  the  field,  musket  in  hand, 
and  frequently  trying  their  skill  as  sharpshooters.  They 
very  often  act  as  voluntary  aides  on  the  staff"  of  General 
Officers,  and  have,  in  numerous  instances,  played  a  con- 
spicuous and  important  part  in  engagements.  They  have 
again  and  again  joined  hazardous  expeditions  for  which 
volunteers  have  been  called  ;  have  gone  on  perilous  raids 
and  scouts  ;  run  batteries,  and  taken  risks  purely  from  a 
love  of  adventure — to  have  the  experience — which  is  a  very 
natural  desire  with  the  poetico-philosophic  temperament. 
They  have  done  a  number  of  what  many  would  call  very 
foolish  and  reckless,  though  certainly  courageous,  acts — 
aU  the  more  courageous  because  they  had  no  inducement 


THE  WAR  CORRESPONDENT.  19 

of  glorj',  and  would  not  at  all  have  "been  honored  as  an 
officer  or  a  soldier  would  if  they  had  fallen,  as  they  some- 
times have,  in  what  would  be  considered  obedience  to  a 
freak  or  feeling,  instead  of  a  conviction  of  duty. 

"  Why  do  they  not  enter  the  service  regularly  ?"  I  pre- 
sume has  "been  often  asked,  ' '  and  so  do  some  good  V '  They 
perform  their  part  as  Corresi:)ondents,  would  be  a  fair  an- 
swer. Tliey  do  good,  though  in  a  different  way,  just  as 
much  as  the  Captain  of  a  battery,  or  the  Lieutenant  of 
cavalry,  or  the  Major  of  an  infantry  regiment  does.  They 
are,  in  my  judgment,  as  much  a  portion,  of  the  Army  or 
ISTavy  as  any  of  the  officers  of  the  Ai-my  or  Xavy,  and 
render  perchance  as  essential,  though  less  interested  and 
heralded,  service. 

Moreover,  I  suspect  the  Bohemians,*from  a  certain  un- 
patience  of  restraint  and  a  Shelley -like  hatred  of  obedience, 
are  often  opposed  to  entering  the  ranks  or  accepting  a 
commission.  They  want  more  freedom  than  a  regular 
connection  with  the  Army  or  Navy  gives  them  ;  but  that 
such  fantastic  scruples  are  not  infrequently  removed  is 
shown  by  the  number  who  have  entered  both  branches  of 
the  service. 

The  profession  of  War  Correspondence  has,  it  seems  to 
me,  declined  somewhat  during  the  past  two  years.  Or  it 
may  Ix?  that  I  see  no  more  the  names  of  those  who  were 
in  the  held  when  I  jiassed  out  of  it  into  a  Rebel  Prison, 
and  fancy  the  new  men  inferior  to  the  old  campaigners 
because  I  do  not  know  them.  This  supposition  is  quite 
probable,  and  I  am  very  willing  it  should  be  regarded  as 
the  cause  of  the  apparent  decadence. 
One  thing  is  certain,  however.    There  has  been  so  much 


20  FOUPw  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

inliaraionj  behveen  the  Officers  and  Correspondents,  so 
many  unpleasant  jarrings  and  misunderstandings,  that 
most  of  the  gentlemen  -who  were  in  the  fit^ld,  -when  I  had 
any  knowledge  of  it,  have  resigned  their  positions  and 
taken  new  ones.  There  are  some  of  my  retired  intimates 
who  insist  that  a  gentleman  cannot  be  a  Correspondent 
■^^^th^ut  detracting  from  his  dignity,  or  abrogating  a  por- 
tion of  his  proper  pride.  I  have  not  found  it  so  in  the 
Past ;  I  trust  I  shall  not  in  the  Future.  I  am  aware  there 
are  officers — some  of  very  high  standing — who  are  ab- 
surdly and  causelessly  prejudiced  against  the  Bohemians  ; 
but  I  cannot  perceive  why  the  two  should  not  be  en  rap- 
port, and  administer  to  each  other' s  advantage. 

That  the  Correspondent  ought  to  have  some  fixed  and 
recognized  positioji  in  the  Army  and  Navy,  ^r  be  expelled 
from  both,  there  can  be  little  question.  There  is  no  middle 
ground.  Either  he  has  full  right  there,  or  he  has  not. 
Then  recognize  or  remove  him.  He  is  always  in  the  field, 
and  alw'ijs  will  be  ;  but  he  is  really  regarded,  so  far  as 
the  Regulations  go,  as  a  kind  of  camp-follower  or  hanger- 
on.  Our  readers  remember,  no  doubt,  the  trouble  that 
occurred  between  General  Halleck  and  the  Bohemians 
before  Corinth  in  the  summer  of  1862,  which  seemed  very 
unwise  and  unnecessary  on  that  officer's  part,  and  which, 
I  am  glad  to  say,  has  never  been  repeated. 

If  the  Corresjiondent  had  a  defined  position,  it  would 
be  far  more  agreeable  to  him  ;  for,  however  well  he  may 
be  treated,  it  is  rather  unpleasant  to  know  that  he  is,  to  a 
certain  extent,  merely  tolerated.  The  Bohemians  with 
whom  I  have  associated  have  always  been  politely  re- 
ceived   by    the    officers,   often    courted    and    fiattered ; 


TITE  WAR  CORRESPONDENT.  21 

but  still  that  doos  not  romovc  the  objection  of  wliich  I 
have  complained.  Accept  them  entirely,  or  suppress 
them  utterly.  Tliey  have  complete  right  there,  as  I 
have  said  :  but  their  right  must  be  established  before  the 
g«^nuin(^  genth^men  of  the  profession  can  feel  altogether  at 
one  with  themselves  and  perfectly  at  their  ease. 

Tlie  Bohemians  have  faults  not  a  few,  as  has  been 
stated  ;  but  they  are  the  best  abused  class  of  which  I  have 
any  knowledge.  They  are  too  much  inclined  to  publish 
their  infonnation  before  prudence  and  i^atriotism  permit ; 
but  that  is  the  fault  of  their  employers,  and  ought  to  be 
wholly  discouraged.  The  man  who  can  fors.et  the  duty 
he  owes  his  country  in  his  desire  to  serve  the  journal  he 
represents,  ought  to  be  disgraced  and  punished. 

Tlie  Bohemians  generally  give  the  facts  about  as  they 
are,  and  to  few  of  their  letters  from  the  field  are  excep- 
tions taken  unless  by  those  officers — alas,  how  many  ! — 
who  insist  that  their  company,  regiment,  brigade  or  divi- 
sion, did  all  the  fighting,  and  saved  the  fortunes  ©f  the 
day. 

It  is  well  known  to  all  veteran  campaigners. that  every 
soldier  and  commander  has  a  different  story  to  tell,  but 
each  regards  it  as  his  religious  obligation  to  praise  his 
own  company  or  corps,  at  the  expense  of  all  others. 
Such  jealousy,  envy,  and  heart-burning  as  are  in  the  ser- 
vice, are  painful  to  any  and  every  true  patriot,  and  prove 
that,  after  all  that  has  been  said,  "  Our  Special"  or  "  Our 
Own"  is  more  trustworthy,  and  has  less  motive  for  mis- 
representation than  any  other  individual  on  land  or  sea. 

We  should  look  leniently  on  the  Bohrmian,  and  will,  I 
apprehend,  when  we  reflect  how  extremely  difficult  his 


22  FOUR   YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

duty  is,  and  hoTv  utterly  impossible-  it  is  to  give  general 
satisfaction.  Let  ns  3'ielcl  him  some  credit,  if  not  for 
^vllat  lie  does,  for  what  he  refrains  from  doing  ;  and  if  we 
look  into  his  life  and  avocation,  we  will  find  he  is  far 
more  sinned  against  than  sinning,  and  less  a  journalist 
than  a  patriot ;  that  he  undergoes  hardship,  and  exposes 
himself  to  dangers  because  he  is  earnest  and  loyal,  and 
truly  devoted  to  our  great  and  glorious  cause. 


THE  FREMONT  CAMPAIGN.  23 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   FREMONT   CAMPAIGN. 

Life  in  Jefferson  City,  Mo. — Effect  of  the  Sudden  Changes  from  Metropolitan 
Life. — A  Contrast  to  the  Glory  of  TVar. — A  Romantic  Soldier. — A  Camp 
Picture. — The  Original  Bohemian  Brigade. 

The  Fremont  campaign  was  the  first  in  whicli  I  fairly 
took  the  field,  and,  consequently,  many  tilings  impressed 
me  then,  that,  later  in  the  AVar,  vould  not  have  aff'ected 
me  at  all. 

The  prominent  features  of  that  campaign  have  passed 
into  history,  and  would  not  hear  repetition  here.  There- 
fore I  shall  merely  give  my  personal  impressions  and  ob- 
servations when  I  reached  Jefferson  City,  early  in  Sep- 
tember, 1861,  fresh  from  the  pursuits  of  Peace  and  the 
comforts  of  metropolitan  life. 

I  arrived  at  the  capital  of  Missouri  some  weeks  before 
General  Fremont  quitted  St.  Louis,  when  Jeff.  C.  Davis, 
then  Colonel,  commanded  the  post.  There  was  very  little 
doing  there  then  in  the  military  way,  and  very  sudden 
transplanting  to  that  rude  frontier  town  made  me  merely 
vegetate  in  that  most  uncongenial  atmosphere. 

I  put  up  at  a  miserable  hotel,  and  for  a  fortnight  I  was 
so  lonely  and  wretched,  that,  if  there  had  been  an  agree- 
able woman  in  the  place,  I  should  have  fallen  in  love  with 
her  from  sheer  desperation. 

Safe  enough  was  I,  however,  in  that  particular.  There 
were  no  women  of  any  kind,  not  to  speak  of  lovable  ones, 


2-1  FOUR   YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

visible  in  tlie  streets,  tlirougli  which  I  sauntered  listlessly 
and  gloomily,  wondering  when  my  brother  Bohemians, 
whom  I  had  left  in  St.  Louis,  would  make  their  appear- 
ance at  the  dreary  capital. 

I  had  no  books  with  me,  and  could  get  none  in  the  town 
worth  reading.  I  did  not  know  how  to  pass  the  hours. 
I  wa^  extremely  miserable.  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess 
it  now — I  was  home-sick ;  and,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
pride,  I  should  have  resigned  my  position  of  War  Corre- 
spondent, and  hurried  back  to  peaceful  avocations  and 
metropolitan  life,  with  a  keener  appreciation  than  I  had 
ever  known  before.        * 

Having  little  to  occupy  me,  I  was*a  great  observer,  and 
grew  a  trifle  sentimental,  perhaps,  as  indolent  and  unhappy 
persons  usually  do. 

One  saw  just  then  much  of  "the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance of  glorious  war."  While  cavaliy  companit^s  were 
constantly  dashing  through  the  streets,  regiments  march- 
ing to  the  inspiring  strains  of  martial  music,  officers 
hurrying  to  and  fro  on  prancing  steeds,  artillery  rumbling 
along,  bugle-notes  and  drum-rolls  rising  from  the  adja- 
cent camps,  a  funeral  cortege  passed  my  window. 

A  rude  car  contained  a  coffin,  enveloped  in  tlie  Ameri- 
can colors  ;  a  squad  of  soldiers  followed,  with  reversed 
arms ;  a  bugle  plaj-ed  a  mournful  dirge ;  but  no  one 
noticed  the  sad  procession.  All  had  too  much  of  life  to 
care  for  the  dead. 

ISTo  one  paused  to  think  of  the  poor  fellow  in  the  coffin, 
who  sickened  and  died  afar  from  home  and  friends,  in  a 
military  hospital. 

No  kind  sister  had  spoken  comfort  to  him ;  no  mother's 


THE   FREMONT   CAMPAIGN.  25 

liaiid  luid  smoothed  his  pillow ;  no  nearer  and  dearer 
friend— kindred  onl}'  in  heart— had  bathed  his  brow  or 
moistened  his  fevered  lips,  or  received  his  last  word,  or 
sigh,  or  kiss. 

lie  had  not  even  had  the  consolation  of  dying  in  battle, 
poor  fellow  !  Disease  had  struck  him  down  ;  but  his 
death  was  not  therefore  less  glorious. 

Hai)py  soldier !  his  troubles  were  over.  He  had 
suffered,  and  was  at  rest.  Nor  care,  nor  pain,  nor  strife 
could  reach  him  evermore. 

No  one  noticed  the  funeral  cortege,  I  have  said. 

Yes,  there  was  one. 

A  young  man  stood  on  the  sidewalk,  with  head  un- 
covered, his  face  beautiful  "with  sympathy,  and  his  eye 
moist  with  pity  and  with  love. 

Men  were  not  all  careless  and  selfish,  even  there. 

He  who  pitied  and  who  felt,  whatever  his  creed  or 
station,  must  have  been,  in  the  largest  sense,  a  Christian 
and  a  gentleman. 

*  -X-  -st  * 

One  night,  as  I  was  at  the  railway  dejjot,  I  observed  a 
young  man,  with  an  unusually  intelligent  and  comely 
face,  standing  sentry,  in  the  uniform  of  a  private. 

I  had  rarely  seen  such  a  face  in  the  ranks,  and  I 
stopped  a  minute  near  him,  gazing  at  the  stars. 

"A  beautiful  night  this,"  he  said.  "External  nature 
is  channing,  but  human  nature  is  ever  melancholy.  How 
calm  and  beautiful  the  stars  are  !  They  seem  silently  to 
rebuke  the  scene  of  arms  on  which  they  gaze." 

My  impression  of  his  superiority  to  his  station  was 
corroborated. 


26  FOUR   YEARS   IN  SECESSIA. 

Few  private  soldiers  think  or  talk  as  lu'  liad  done  ;  and 
at  once  we  fell  into  conversation,  wliicli  continued  for  an 
hour. 

I  learned  from  him — for  he  at  once  unbosomed  himself 
— that  he  had  been  in  love  with  a  beautiful  girl,  tlu^  only 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  merchant  of  Cincinnati,  and  been 
affianced  to  her. 

During  three  months'  absence  in  the  East,  she  had  been 
flirting  desperately  with  another  young  man,  and  my 
soldier-friend,  learning,  on  his  return,  that  the  two  were 
engaged,  concluded  to  call  on  her  no  more. 

The  girl  wrote  to  him,  and  he  answered,  informing  her 
of  what  he  had  heard.  She  acknowledged  the  truth,  but 
declared  her  affair  with  his  rival  merely  a  flirtation  ;  that 
she  loved  the  youth  she  addressed,  and  never  could  love 
any  one  else. 

This  Avas  not  satisfactory.  The  enamored  youth  was 
wretched  and  desperate,  and,  declaring  all  women  false, 
volunteered  as  a  private,  and  went  to  Missouri. 

He  informed  me  that,  but  for  the  war,  he  would  have 
committed  suicide  ;  that  he  was  anxious  to  fall  in  the  flrst 
charge,  for  life  had  for  him  no  further  charms. 

I  smiled  at  his  infatuation,  and  told  him  that  nearly  all 
women  were  fickle;  that  his  "Louisa"  was  less  so,  pro- 
bably, than  most  of  her  sex ;  that  he  should  have  more 
philosophy  than  to  think  of  d}-ing  for  a  silly  girl,  and 
that  he  should  congratulate  himself  on  his  escape  from 
matrimony. 

He  thought  me  jesting,  at  first,  and  then  wondered  how 
one  at  my  age — I  was  far  3^ounger  than  now — had  become 
so  cynical. 


TUE   FREMONT   CAMPAIGN.  27 

" Through  observation  and  reason,"  I  answered;  and, 
assuring  hhn  he  "would  soon  forget  "Louisa,"  and  fancy 
he  loved  some  other  woman,  bade  him  good-night. 

He  vowed  I  was  mistaken ;  that  I  would  hear  of  his 
death  in  liis  first  battle. 

I  never  did. 

He  will  go  through  the  war  unhurt,  no  doubt,  and  live 
long  enough  after  to  laugh  at  his  boyish  passion,  and 
experience,  perhaps,  that  Love,  as  young  hearts  imagine 
and  poets  paint  it,  is  a  myth  that  Reason  immediately 
removes. ' 

*  *  *  * 

About  the  1st  of  October  we  went  into  camp,  and  on 
the  evening  of  the  4tli,  all  was  activity. 

The  sky  was  dark  with  clouds,  and  the  lightning  in  the 
southern  horizon,  and  the  low-muttering  thunder,  blend- 
ing with  the  neigh  of  horses,  the  rattling  of  sabres  trail- 
ing on  the  ground,  the  "good-by"  of  officers,  as  they 
rode  off  to  join  their  commands,  already  in  advance,  the 
hoarse  cry  of  the  artillerjTuen  and  teamsters,  the  music- 
swell  of  the  National  bands,  coming  in  waves  over  the 
slopes  and  through  the  trees,  witii  the  illuminated  tents, 
the  camp-fires  reddening  the  oaks  and  beeches — all  gave  a 
strange  but  attractive  wildness  to  the  mezzotinto  land- 
scape before  our  eyes. 

With  all  its  monotony,  all  its  painful  suggestions,  there 
is  a  Idnd  of  charm  in  camp-life — in  its  freedom  from  ordi- 
nary restraint,  its  out-door  existence,  its  easy,  reckless 
tone,  its  devil-may-care  indifference,  and  utter  disregard 
of  the  formal  barbarians  the  enlightened  world  calls 
"Society." 


28  FOUK  YEARS   IX  SECESSIA. 


"The  Boliemian  Brigade''  was  the  name  the  litth;  coi-ps 
of  amiy  correspondents  and  artists  that  soon  assembled 
at  Jefferson  City  had  received.  They  -were  only  seven  or 
eight  in  number :  Albert  D.  Richardson,  of  the  New  York 
Tribune,  Thomas  W.  Knox,  of  the  Herald,  Franc  B. 
Wilkie,  of  the  Times,  Richard  T.  Colburn,  of  the  World, 
Joseph  B.  McCuUagh,  of  the  Cincinnati  Commercial, 
Geo.  W.  Beaman,  of  the  St.  Louis  Democrat,  Henri 
Lovie,  artist  for  Frank  Leslie,  and  Alex.  A.  Simplot,  for 
Harjpef  s  Weeldy ;  with  several  other  scribblers  and 
sketchers,  who  were  there  for  a  few  days,  but  grew  tired 
or  disgusted,  and  did  not  accompany  our  expedition  to 
the  South- West. 

Of  course,  we  had  considerable  leisure,  and  amused 
ourselves  as  best  we  could,  in  the  absence  of  books, 
which  were  very  scarce.  We  smoked  pipes,  played 
whist,  discussed  Poetry,  Metaphysics,  Art,  the  Opera, 
Women,  the  World,  the  War  and  its  future,  and  various 
themes  on  which  we  then  could  merely  speculate.  Most 
of  our  Brigade  were  bachelors — unless  Michelet's  idea  of 
bachelordom,  as  represented  in  "L' Amour,"  be  correct 
— and  enthusiastic  members  of  the  anti-matrimonfal  school 
of  philosophy. 

The  unwedded  bore  camp-life  resignedly  and  cheer- 
fully ;  but  the  Benedicks  seemed  delighted  with  it, 
because,  as  the  most  confirmed  celibates  declared,  they 
then  had  an  excuse  for  absenting  themselves  from  their 
domestic  hearths,  and,  to  use  that  exquisitely  satirical 
phrase,  the  "blessings  of  connubial  Ufa." 


OAMP-LIFE  AT  SYRACUSE.  MO.  29 


CHAPTER  III. 

OAMP-LIFE  AT   SYRACUSE,  MO. 

Effects  of  Camp-Life.— Sentimental  Reflections  on  War.— A  Modern  Penthesilea. 
—Woman's  Military  Influence  Beautifully  Exemplified.- The  Rural  Females  of 
Missouri. — Their  Unpoetic  Appearance. 

In  tlie  early  days  of  October,  1861,  Fremont's  army 
began  to  move  from  Missouri's  capital,  for  the  purpose  of 
intercepting,  if  possible,  and  certainly  of  giving  battle  to, 
Price's  forces,  wlio  had  from  some  mysterious  cause  been 
allowed  to  take  Lexington,  and  then  retreat  southward 
without  opposition  or  hindrance.  Whose  the  fault  was, 
I  will  not  here  attempt  to  show.  I  will  simply  accom- 
pany Fremont  to  Springfield,  describing  such  noteworthy 
incidents  of  the  camp  and  march  as  have  not  already 
become  familiar  to  the  general  reader. 

When  the  correspondent  of  the  Herald  and  myself 
reached  Syracuse,  Mo.,  about  the  13th  or  14th  of  October, 
I  was  becoming  accustomed  to  camp-life,  though  I  could 
hardly  say  I  liked  it,  nor  did  I  believe  I  ever  should. 

It  was  certainly  a  change,  and  on  that  account  I  sought 
it.  It  was  very  different  from  existence  at  the  Fiftli 
Avenue  or  Metropolitan — about  as  different  as  a  transfer 
from  Paris  to  Canton,  or  from  the  equator  to  the  north 
pole.  I  had  not  expected  to  find  agreeableness  in  camp- 
life,  but  rather  its  opposite ;  and  therefore  I  was  not  to 
be  disappointed. 


30  FOUR   YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

Residence  in  camp  lias  a  decided  effect  in  removing  the 
romantic  idea  of  AVar,  which,  by  the  by,  I  have  ever 
regarded  as  the  most  prosaic  and  unattractive  of  actual- 
ities. No  spirit  of  poesy,  no  breath  of  sentiment  enters 
into  War;  no  aesthetic  principle  animates  it.  War  bristles 
with  facts — is  terribly  real,  repulsively  practical. 

War  may  be  beautiful  on  the  historian's  page,  and 
through  the  idealization  of  time  and  distance ;  but  to  the 
spectator  or  the  actor  it  is  divested  of  its  charms,  and 
becomes  a  reign  of  horrors  and  a  civilized  monstrosity. 
And  yet  it  has  its  fascinations,  as  drunkenness,  licentious- 
ness, murder,  journalism,  and  the  stage  have  theirs. 

What  is  War,  after  all,  but  scientific  assassination, 
throat-cutting  by  rule,  causing  misery  and  vice,  and  pain 
and  death  by  prescribed  fonus  ?  It  seems  high  time  AVar 
had  ceased  to  be.  It  is  a  palpable  anachronism,  and  yet 
it  continues,  and  will  until  the  mental  millennium  arrives  ; 
until  this  sphere  is  spiiitualized,  and  mankind  have  grown 
philosophers. 

So  I  thought  then  ;  but  my  duty  was  to  write  of,  not 
against,  AVar ;  and,  stretched  on  the  earth  beside  my  tent, 
in  the  shade,  on  a  warm,  bright,  beautiful  day,  full  of  the 
loveliness  of  October,  I  proceeded  to  discharge  my  jour- 
nalistic obligations  as  best  I  could,  reserving  my  senti- 
mental opinions  about  War  for  private  ears. 

*  *  *  * 

A  great  deal  of  disharaiony  and  trouble  occurred  about 
that  time  in  a  Missouri  cavalry  regiment,  which  threat- 
ened then  to,  and  eventually  did,  break  it  up  completely. 
About  the  1st  of  October,  the  commander  had  placed  a 
number  of  the  inferior  officers  under  arrest  at  Tipton,  and 


CAMP-LIFE   AT   SYRACUSE,   MO.  31 

a  detachment  at  Jefferson  refused  to  obey  liis  orders,  and 
were  insubordinate  because  they  were  not  anned.  Much 
of  this  trouble  was  reported  to  liave  arisen  on  account  of 
the  interference  of  the  wife  of  the  Colonel  with  the  affairs 
of  the  regiment,  in  which  she  took  the  most  lively  in- 
terest. 

I  was  told  she  threatened  to  horsewhip  some  of  the 
refractory  officers,  drew  revolvers  upon  others,  and 
adopted  the  most  masculine  measures  to  restore  order  out 
of  chaos.  Of  course,  a  woman's  interference  was  resent- 
ed by  the  officers,  who  murmured  loudly  against  petticoat 
domination,  and  were  extremely  anxious  to  get  rid  of  her. 
The  ^Madame,  however,  would  not  be  gotten  rid  of,  and 
continued  to  play  the  part  of  Penthesilea  with  a  degree 
of  boldness  and  perseverance  which,  in  the  days  of  the 
Amazons,  would  have  made  her  their  queen. 

She  bore  dispatches,  rode  through  storm  and  tempest, 
faced  curses  and  opposition,  met  insult  with  maledictions 
and  menaces,  and  evinced  an  energy,  a  resolution,  and  a 
courage,  that  rendered  it  a  pity  she  was  not  born  of  the 
opposite  sex. 

Notwithstanding  her  feminine  gendership,  she  was  said 
by  those  Avho  knew  her  to  be  most  masculine  in  character, 
and  that  she  would  be  very  effective  in  leading  a  ca;valry 
charge,  or  attacking  a  death-dealing  battery.  From  iill 
accounts,  she  seemed  unfortunate  in  her  genesis — to  have 
been  created  physically  a  woman  and  mentally  a  man. 

The  virago  finally  demoralized  the  regiment,  caused  its 
disbandment,  and  her  husband' s  removal  from  the  army. 

She  had  her  way  ;  but  she  ruined  her  liege-lord,  who, 
the  last  I  heard  of  him,  had  taken  to  superlative  potations 


32  FOUR   YEARS   IN  SECESSIA. 

and  the  exhibition  of  seven-legged  calves  and  Irish  giants, 
still  accompanied,  and  haunted,  and  tortured  by  the  pur- 
Buing  Nemesis  of  his  life,  the  precious  punk  Avhom  we 
have  honored  with  the  fragment  of  a  chapter. 

*  *  *  * 

After  my  arrival  in  the  rural  regions  of  Missouri,  and 
my  association  with  the  army,  I  often  wondered  how  men 
fond  of  women  managed  to  endure  ;  indeed,  I,  who  had 
always  regarded  the  softer  sex  as  works  of  art — and  are 
they  not  such  ? — from  the  level  of  cold  criticism  or  pure 
aesthetics  have  been  compelled  to  commiserate,  though 
I  could  not  sympathize  with,  those  countless  amorous 
Alfonsos. 

Fine  women  did  not  appear  indigenous  to  the  disloyal 
soil  of  Missouri. 

They  were  in  the  rough,  as  sculptors  phrase  it ;  lack- 
ing the  refining  chisel  of  Art  and  Culture  to  fashion  them 
into  loveliness. 

A  lover  of  the  Beautiful  looked  in  vain  for  the  classic 
features,  the  spiritual  expression,  the  soul-reflecting  eye, 
the  charming  symmetry,  the  voluptuous  proportions,  the 
elegant  drapery,  the  delightful  but  airy  nothings  that 
appeal  to  the  Imagination  more  than  the  Sense. 

In  their  stead,  he  saw  broAvn  and  brawny  women,  that 
offended  his  taste,  and  chilled  his  gallantry  ;  that  re- 
pressed his  chivalrous  sentiment,  and  falsified  his  mem- 
ories of  the  blue  eyed  "Belles"  and  hazel-haired 
"Heroes"  he  had  met,  and  made  them  seem  the  angels 
of  a  dreamy  Past. 


A  NIGHT   WITH   THE   FLEAS.  33 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  NIGHT   WITH   THE  FLEAS. 

Unanticipated  Attack. — Inexplicable  Sensations. — Prosaic  Revelation. — Our  In- 
tense Suffering. — A  Novel  Remedy. — Extraordinary  Ride  through  a  Tempes- 
tuous Night. — Finale  of  the  Tmgi-Comedy. 

Until  I  began  to  follow  the  camp,  I  had  never  known, 
save  by  auricular  evidence,  of  those  unpoetical  insects 
known  as  fleas;  but  one  night  in  Syracus*^,  Mo.,  "our 
mess"  experienced  the  cruelty  and  savageness  of  the 
diminutive  foes  of  man,  to  our  bodies'  extremest  dis- 
satisfaction. 

We  were  all  lounging  in  the  tent,  reading,  undreaming 
of  enemies  of  any  kind,  when  we  all  became  restless, 
and  the  interest  of  our  books  began  seriously  to  di- 
minish. 

There  were  various  manual  applications  to  various 
parts  of  the  body,  multifarious  shiftings  of  position,  ac- 
companied with  emphatic  expletives  that  sounded  mar- 
velously  like  oaths. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  was  asked  by  one  of  us  of 
another.     "What  renders  you  so  uneasy?" 

"  Heaven  knows  !"  was  the  ansAver ;  "but  I  itch  like 
Satan." 

"My  body  seems  on  fire,"  observed  one. 

"I  wonder,"  said  another,  "if  I  have  contracted  a 
loathsome  disease!" 

"Confound  it!   what  ails  me?" 


34  FOUR   YEAi:S   IN   SECESSIA. 

"And  me — and  me — and  me?"  was  echoed  from  my 
companions. 

One  hand  became  insufficient  to  allaj''  tlie  irritation 
of  our  corporeality.  Both  hands  became  requisite  to 
the  task,  and  our  volumes  were  necessarily  laid  aside. 

No  one  yet  appeared  aware  of  the  cause  of  his  suffer- 
ing. If  ^ye  were  not  all  in  Tophet,  no  one  could  deny 
we  had  gone  to  the  old  Scratch.  We  seemed  to  be 
laboring  under  an  uncontrollable  nervous  complaint. 
We  threw  our  hands  about  wildly.  We  seized  our 
flesh  rudely,  and  rubbed  our  clothes  until  they  nearly 
ignited  from  friction. 

One  of  the  quartette  could  stand  it  no  longer.  He 
threw  off  his  coat  and  vest  spasmodically,  and  even  his 
under  garments,  and  solemnly  exclaimed — 

"Flee  from  the  wrath  to  come!" 

The  mystery  was  explained — the  enigma  solved. 

The  martyr's  person  was  covered  with  small  black 
spots,  that  disappeared  and  reappeared  in  the  same 
instant. 

To  be  practically  expressive,  he  was  covered  with  fleas. 

The  rest  of  us  followed  his  example,  and  converted 
ourselves  into  model  artists. 

We  were  all  covered  with  fleas. 

Fleas  were  everywhere.  Tent,  straw,  books,  blan- 
kets, valises,  saddles,  swarmed  with  them. 

The  air  scintillated  with  their  blackness. 

We  rushed  out  of  the  tent. 

They  were  there  in  myriads. 

The  moonlight  fell  in  checkered  beams  through  their 
innumerable  skippings. 


A  NIGHT   WITir   THE  FLEAS.  35 

Tljey  made  a  terrible  charge,  as  of  a  forlorn  hope,  and 
drove  us  back. 

We  roared  with  anger  and  with  pain,  and  loud  curses 
made  the  atmosphere  assume  a  violet  hue. 

Three  of  the  flea-belieged  caught  up  canteens  of 
whisky  and  brandy,  and  poured  the  contents  over  their 
persons  and  down  their  throats ;  scratching  meanwhile 
like  a  thousand  cats  of  the  Thomas  persuasion,  and 
leaping  about  like  dancing  dervises. 

The  more  the  fleas  bit,  the  more  the  victims  drank ; 
and  I,  having  no  taste  for  liquor,  began  to  envy  them, 
as,  in  their  increasing  intoxication,  they  seemed  to  enjoy 
themselves  after  a  sardonic  fashion. 

The  fleas  redoubled  their  ferocity  on  me,  and  I  surren- 
dered at  discretion  ;  and  at  last  became  resigned  to  their 
attacks,  uYitil,  a  few  minutes  after,  a  storm  that  had  been 
gathering  burst  with  fierce  lightning,  heavy  thunder,  and 
torrents  of  rain. 

A  happy  idea  seized  me. 

I  caught  up  my  saddle  and  bridle,  and  placed  them  on 
my  sable  steed  "Festus,"  which  stood  neighing  to  the 
tempest,  a  few  feet  from  the  camp. 

I  mounted  the  fleet-footed  horse,  and,  nude  as  the 
Apollo  Belvidere,  cried  "go"  to  the  restive  animal; 
and  off"  we  sped,  to  the  amazement  of  the  sentinels, 
through  the  darkness  and  the  storm. 

Every  few  moments  the  lightning  blazed  ai-ound  us 
with  a  lurid  sheen,  as  we  went  like  the  wind  through 
the  tempestuous  night. 

"Festus"  enjoyed  it,  as  did  his  rider ;  and  six  swift- 
speeding  miles  were  passed  ere  I  drew  the  rein  upon  the 


3G  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

neck  of  the  panting  beast,  covered  with  white  flecks  of 
foam. 

I  paused,  and  felt  that  the  fleas  had  "been  left  behind. 

The  pelting  rain  and  rushing  blast  had  been  too  much 
for  them  ;  while  the  exercise  ha^  made  my  attireless  body 
glow  into  a  pleasant  warmth. 

"Festus"  galloped  back,  and  soon  I  was  in  the  tent, 
rolled  so  closely  in  a  blanket  that  no  new  attack  of  the 
fleas  could  reach  me. 

My  companions,  overcome  with  their  exertions,  sufler- 
ings,  and  potations,  had  lain  down ;  but  the  fleas  were 
still  upon  them,  and  they  rolled  and  tossed  more  than 
a  rural  tragedian  in  the  tent  scene  of  "  Richard  the 
Third." 

They  were  asleep,  and  yet  they  moaned  piteously,  and 
scratched  with  demoniac  violence. 

In  spite  of  my  pity  for  the  poor  fellows,  I  could  not 
refrain  from  laughing. 

With  the  earliest  dawn  I  awoke,  and  the  tent  was 
vacant. 

Horrid  thought ! 

Had  the  fleas  carried  them  ofi*? 

I  went  out  to  search  for  them ;  and,  after  a  diligent 
quest,  found  them  still  in  nature's  garb,  distributed 
miscellaneously  about  the  encampment. 

In  their  physical  torture  they  had  unconsciously  rolled 
out  of  the  tent. 

One  lay  in  an  adjacent  ditch  ;  a  second  under  an  artil- 
lery wagon  ;  and  the  third  was  convulsively  grasping  the 
earth,  as  if  he  were  endeavoring  to  dig  his  own  grave ; 
believing,  no  doubt,  that,  in  the  tomb,  neither  Fortune 


A  NIGHT  WITH  THE  FLEAS.  87 

nor  fleas  could  ever  liarni  liim  more.  The  unfortunate 
two  were  covered  with  crimson  spots,  and  looked  as  if 
recovering  from  the  small- pox. 

I  pulled  them,  still  stupid  from  their  spiritual  excess, 
into  the  tent  again,  and  covered  them  with  blankets, 
though  they  swore  incoherently  as  I  did  so,  evidently 
believing  that  some  giant  flea  was  dragging  them  to 
perdition. 

When  they  were  fully  aroused,  they  fell  to  scratching  , 
again  most  violently,  but  knew  not  what  had  occurred 
until  they  had  recalled  the  events  of  the  previous  night. 

They  then  blasphemed  afresh,  and  unanimously  con- 
signed the  entire  race  of  fleas  to  the  Bottomless  Pit. 

The  fleas  still  tried  to  bite,  but  could  flud  no  new 
places,  and  my  companions  had  grown  accustomed 
to  them. 

They  felt  no  uneasiness  for  the  coming  night ;  they 
were  aware  that  the  new  fleas  Avould  retii'e  from  a  field 
so  completely  occupied,  and  that  the  domesticated 
creatures  were  in  suflicient  force  to  rout  all  invaders. 

So  ended  that  memorable  ISToche  Triste,  an  exemplifica- 
tion of  the  Scriptural  declaration, 

"The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth." 


38  FOUR  YEARS  IN"  SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ROMANCE   AND   REALITY   IN   CAMP. 

Conversion  of  a  Fair  Secessionist. — Disadvantage  of  Securing  a  Guard. — A  Grand 
Mule  Concert. — Sonorous  Inaitations  of  the  Opera. — High- Art  Jackassical  Per- 
formances.— Terror  excited  by  the  Unique  Entertainment. 

A  Captain  on  one  of  the  general's  staffs  in  McKinstry's 
division,  while  we  were  at  Syracuse,  sent  a  guard  to  pro- 
tect the  house  of  a  Secessionist  in  that  neighborhood,  who 
felt  very  needless  alarm  about  his  property  ;  and  learning 
that  the  Rebel  had  a  pretty  and  interesting  daughter  (re- 
markable circumstance  in  Missouri),  paid  frequent  visits 
to  her  domicil,  and  assumed  the  deepest  interest  in  the 
protection  and  welfare  of  the  family. 

Tliis  Avas,  as  may  be  supposed,  the  effect  of  the  attrac- 
tiveness of  the  daughter,  Avliose  acquaintance,  of  course, 
the  officer  made  on  his  first  visit.  He  found  the  fair  girl 
a  violent  advocate  of  that  meaningless  phrase,  *'  Southern 
Rights;"  but,  like  a  sensible  man,  he  was  the  more  at- 
tracted to  lier  therefor. 

Here  let  me  state  what  Brantome  and  Crebillon,  and  the 
other  French  writers  on  women  and  their  peculiarities, 
have  failed  to  mention. 

The  man  of  perseverance,  who  eloquently  opposes  a 
woman's  ruling  opinion,  excites  her  love  through  her 
hate. 

So  it  proved  with  the  Captain. 


ROMANCE   AND   REALITY   IN   CAMP.  39 

The  girl  was  furious  at  first ;  declared  liira  an  abolition- 
ist and  an  assassin  ;  vowed  slie  would  not  marry  a  Yan- 
kee if  lier  soul's  salvation  d(^pended  on  it,  and  so  on  to 
the  end. 

The  Captain  blended  vehement  Unionism  with  his  pas- 
sionate gallantry,  and  in  a  week  the  girl  struck  her  Seces- 
sion colors,  and  is  now  warmly  in  favor  of  the  Govern- 
ment, and  betrothed  to  the  young  officer. 

Her  father  knows  not  the  change  of  his  daughter's 
sentiments. 

When  he  does,  he  will  regret  asking  a  guard  for  his 
property.  He  should  rather  have  requested  a  guard  for 
"Helen's"  heart,  which  was  hopelessly  lost,  even  to  a 
Rebel  lover  she  had  in  Tennessee. 

What  is  called  "  winning  a  woman' s  heart"  is  generally 
a  melancholy  business. 

It  is  often  less  difficult  to  get  it  than  to  get  rid  of 
it;  and  is,  on  the  whole,  a  very  uncomfortable  and 
unremunerative  acquisition. 

*  *  *  * 

We  had  an  amusing  entertainment  one  night  at  Syi*a- 
cuse,  and  an  entertainment  of  an  original  character. 

I  am  passionately  fond  of  music  ;  could  listen  to  sweet 
sounds,  I  think,  until  my  hair  turned  gray. 

I  have  heard  all  the  great  vocalists  and  artistes  that 
liave  visited  this  country  ;  but  never,  until  the  night  in 
question,  had  my  melody-longing  ears  been  greeted  Avith 
so  unique  a  perfonnance  as  a  mule  concert. 

It  was  irresistibly  droll  to  hear,  though  it  can  not  be 
described,  and  would  have  made  Heraclitus  laugh. 

My  army-correspondent  companions  and  myself  were 


40  FOUR  YEARS   IN"  SECESSIA. 

talking  about  the  prospects  of  the  campaign,  while  rolled 
in  our  blankets  in  the  tent,  when  our  voices  were  drowned 
by  the  loudest  and  shrillest  and  most  space-penetrating 
bray  I  remember  to  have  heard. 

A  moment  passed,  and  the  bray  was  repeated  in  a 
baser  key  ;  then  another,  and  another,  and  another,  each 
with  a  different  modulation. 

All  the  mules  in  the  camp  volunteered  for  the  operatic 
r61e,  and  the  atmosphere  quivered  with  the  cacophonous 
notes. 

Sometimes  all  the  mules  but  one  would  cease  ;  and  he 
would  execute  the  solo  part,  the  rest  coming  in  most 
energetically  by  way  of  chorus.  All  voices  were  repre- 
sented to  the  extent  of  a  mule's  capacity. 

We  had  the  soprano,  mezzo  and  pure  ;  the  first  and 
second  tenore ;  the  baritone  the  basso  profundo  and 
secondo  ;  the  alto  and  falsetto. 

One  mule  would  attempt  a  florid  passage,  and  in  the 
midst  of  a  roulade  would  break ;  when  the  others,  either 
in  applause  or  ridicule,  would  indulge  in  a  species  of 
mule  music  that  was  positively  infernal. 

Ten  thousand  tom-cats,  a  million  of  screaming  babies, 
a  billion  of  rusty  saws  carelessly  filed,  with  four  trillions 
of  intoxicated  Teutons,  endeavoring  to  play  "  Hail  Colum- 
bia" with  the  wrong  end  of  a  cornet,  might  give  a  faint 
idea  of  the  sound. 

If  we  could  obtain  that  noise  in  a  concentrated  liquid 
form,  and  pour  it  out  on  the  battle-field,  it  would  fright- 
en the  Rebels  out  of  their  senses,  and  make  the  moon 
blink  with  terrified  amazement. 

Indeed  it  would. 


ROMANCE   AND   REALITY   IN   CAMP.  41 

For  at  least  four  hours  the  mules  kept  up  their  infernal 

noise. 

The  soldiers  started  from  their  slumbers  ;  the  sentinels 
turned  pale ;  those  of  the  Catholic  faith  crossed  them- 
selves, and  said  an  "Ave  Maria;"  the  horses  neighed 
wildly ;  and  the  general  impression  seemed  to  be  that 
Hades  had  broken  loose,  and  emptied  itself  into  Camp 
McKinstry. 

I  thought  I  had  heard  unpleasant  noises,  but  I  confess 
I  was  in  error. 

No  man  can  justly  declare  he  knows  what  perfect 
discord  is,  until  he  has  listened  to  a  mule  concert  of  the 
high  art  style. 

I  have  often  been  told  mules  were  vicious,  but  now  I 
am  convinced  they  are  totally  depraved;  that  they  are 
possessed  of  a  devil,  and  that  they  let  him  out  through 
their  mouths  on  the  night  of  the  ever-to-be-remembered 
jackassical  entertainment. 


42  FOUR  YExVRS   IN  SEOESSIA. 


CHAPTER  VL 


ON     THE     MAKCH 


Brutality  of  Officers. — Shameful  Treatment  of  a  TToman. — Change  of  Base. — A 
Model  Missouri  Hotel. — Resumption  of  the  March. — Bohemian  Plxilosophy. — 
Its  Necessity  in  the  Field. 

The  injustice  and  "brutality  with  wliicli  private  soldiers 
are  often  treated  by  their  officers,  is  enough  to  render  any 
sensitive  nature  cynical.  I  have  seen  repeated  instances 
of  this,  and  I  wonder  some  shoulder-strapped  ruffians  are 
not  often  assassinated,  as  they  deserve  to  be,  by  the  men 
they  so  grossly  abuse. 

As  an  instance :  One  day,  at  Syracuse,  a  private 
who  had  a  canteen  of  liquor,  and  had  been  drinking, 
was  knocked  down,  beaten,  and  kicked  in  the  most 
brutal  manner,  before  a  dozen  Captains,  Colonels,  and 
Majors,  all  of  whom,  doubtless,  professed  to  be  gentle- 
men, and  3^et  not  one  of  them  remonstrated  against  the 
outrage,  or  interfered  to  prevent  it. 

Gentlemen,  indeed  !     They  were  not  even  human. 

Not  a  voice  was  raised  against  the  cowardly  and  ruf- 
fianly officers,  except  that  of  a  woman,  whose  instincts  of 
humanity  could  not  be  repressed. 

When  she  spoke  of  the  grievous  wrong,  she  was 
insulted  by  the  "military  gentlemen"  who  had  failed  to 
prevent  the  cruelty  the  weak  woman  only  had  courage  to 
rebuke. 


ON   TUE   MARCH.  43 

Another  instance  :  Two  soldiers,  who  liad  been  in  the 
hosjiital  in  St.  Louis,  and  wlio,  extremely  anxious  to  join 
their  regiment,  had  left  their  beds  before  they  were  able, 
arrived  one  day  at  Syracuse  ;  and,  still  pale  and  wan, 
but  with  patriotism  and  enthusiasm  flashing  from  their 
eyes,  went  up  to  the  Colonel,  and  said : 

"Well,  Colonel,  we  are  about  again.  We  got  up 
against  the  Surgeon's  orders;  but  we  were  afraid  we'd 
be  left  behind,  and  we  always  want  to  be  with  the  brave 
Seventh." 

The  Colonel,  contemptible  puppy  as  he  was,  looked 
angrily  at  the  poor,  brave  fellow^s,  and  said,  in  the  most 
angry  tone  : 

"Well,   G d you,  go  and  report . yourselves^, 

and  don't  trouble  me." 

After  seeing  and  hearing  the  brutality  of  a  portion  of 
the  officers  to  their  men,  I  do  not  wonder  the  former  are 
BO  often  killed  in  battle. 

It  must  be  a  sweet  "satisfaction,  as  well  as  a  species  of 
poetic  justice,  to  shoot  the  brutal  tyrants,  for  whose  loss 
Humanity  is  better,  and  the  World  improved. 

*  *  *  * 

After  tarrying  for  eight  or  ten  days  at  Syracuse,  wait- 
ing in  vain  for  McKinstry's  division  to  move,  several  of 
the  Bohemians  determined  to  join  Fremont  at  Wai'saw, 
and  therefore  rode  through  the  country,  infested  as  it  was 
by  guerrillas,  without  any  accident  or  event  of  inteicst. 

The  only  hotel,  so  called,  in  AVarsaw,  was  an  antique 
frame  tenement,  somewhat  larger  than  a  dry-goods  box, 
without  its  cleanliness,  however,  that  rejoiced  in  the 
name  of  the  Henry  House — apt  enough  in  one  respect ;  for 


44  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

whoever  boarded  there  no  doubt  thought  he  had  gone  to 
the  old  Harry.  It  was  said,  moreover,  to  bo  kept  in  the 
same  recherche,  though  rather  profane  manner  that 
characterized  the  Bonifacial  administration  of  Mr.  Henry 
Achey,  formerly  of  Cincinnati.  The  proprietor  of  the 
Henry  being  asked  if  he  could  prepare  dinner  for  the 
"Bohemian  Brigade,''  said  he  would  do  so  witli  pleasure 
if  we  would  furnish  him  with  flour,  butter,  beef,  coffee, 
sugar,  potatoes,  salt,  and  mutton ;  but  that  those  small 
superfluities  were  just  then  lacking  in  his  larder. 

Such  was  life,  then,  in  the  Secession  regions  of  Mis- 
:SOuri ;  and  I  apprehend  it  is  not  much  better  now. 

We  did  not  remain  long  in  Warsaw.  As  soon  "as  the 
bridge  over  the  Gasconade  was  completed,  we  pushed  on 
towards  Springfield,  whither  it  was  reported  Price  was 
moving  in  all  haste. 

We  had  few  incidents  of  consequence  to  relate  on  our 
march,  and  the  "  Bohemian  Brigade"  was  barren  of  news 
for  its  war  correspondence,  though  its  personal  experience 
and  observations  might  furnish  a  rather  racy  chapter  of 
.gossip  by  itself. 

At  Quincy  we  took  possession  of  a  Rebel  deserted 
mansion,  I  was  about  to  say,  but  cabin  is  the  word  ;  and 
from  a  most  desolate  abode  we  made  it  quite  endurable  in 
half  an  hour  by  our  own  diligence. 

We  laid  aside  our  metropolitan  ideas,  cut  and  gathered 
wood,  carried  furniture  from  adjacent  unoccupied  houses, 
collected  corn  for  our  horses,  swept  up  the  floor,  lighted 
the  fire  and  our  pipes,  and  made  ourselves  very  comfort- 
.able  under  the  circumstances. 

With  our  books  and  correspondence  and  conversation 


ON  THE  MARCH.  45 

"we  contrived  to  pass  away  half  a  dozen  hours,  that  would 
ordinarily  have  been  most  tedious  and  monotonous. 

At  Yort's  Station  Ave  appropriated  the  negroless  slave 
quarter-s  attached  to  a  Secession  domicil  to  our  own  use, 
and  for  a  day  placed  ourselves  in  quite  a  cosy  condition, 
and  had  begun  to  feel  somewhat  at  home,  when  the  order 
to  march  came,  and  we  bade  adieu  to  our  extemporized 
dwelling-place. 

We  adopted  tUe  true  Bohemian  code  of  doing  the  best 
we  could  for  our  comfort,  and  of  laughing  away  the 
multifarious  annoyances  that  were  inseparable  from  camp- 
life,  even  in  its  best  and  most  endurable  forms. 

No  one  complained,  no  one  grumbled  ;  though  I  doubt 
not  more  than  one, of  us  wished  the  war  and  its  wagers  to 
the  devil,  and  resolved  in  his  own  heart  that  military 
existence  was  a  Behemothian  bore. 

A  man  must  become  philosophical  in  camp,  if  he  would 
not  follow  the  example  of  Cato  and  Brutus,  or  perish  in  a 
fit  of  choler. 

One  looks  for  his  blankets,  and  they  have  been  stolen  ; 
for  his  books,  and  they  are  gone  ;  for  his  spurs,  and  they 
have  been  borrowed  ;  for  his  pipe,  and  it  is  broken ;  for 
his  boots,  and  one  is  missing  ;  for  his  gauntlets,  and  they 
are  in  the  fire. 
1    So  it  goes,  day  after  day. 

Make  what  effort  you  will,  you  can  find  nothing  when 
you  want  it  most ;  and  I  very  much  question  if  St.  Paul 
would  not  have  been  very  profane,  if  he  had  ever  at- 
tached himself  to  the  Ai-my. 


46  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SEOESSIA- 


CHAPTER  VII. 
Wilson's    creek. 

Visit  to  the  Battle-Oround. — Its  Appearance. — Cause  of  Sigel's  Discomfiture. — 
Scenes  on  the  Field. — Ghastly  Spectacles. — The  Sleeping  Camp. — A  Skyey 
Omen. 

After  our  arrival  at  Springfield,  Mo.,  I  paid  a  visit 
to  the  battle-ground  of  AVilson's  Creek,  some  ten  miles 
from  that  place,  and  found  a  number  of  persons  wan- 
dering over  the  hard-fought  field. 

I  can  imagine  few  more  disadvantageous  localities  for 
a  battle.  The  country  is  very  rolling,  sloping  down  to 
the  little  stream,  now  made  historic,  and  is  covered 
with  timber  and  underwood,  so  that  troops  can  rt^adily 
conceal  themselves  when  the  foliage  is  as  thick  as  it  must 
have  been  in  August. 

The  ridges  are  quite  steep,  and  it  is  difficult  to  move 
cavalry  or  artillery  over  them.  The  battle  must  have 
raged  over  four  or  five  miles  of  space,  and  General 
Sigel  began  the  attack  far  down  the  creek,  while  L}'on, 
and  Totten,  and  Sturgis,  Avith  the  Iowa,  Kansas,  and 
Missouri  regiments,  and  the  regulars,  fouglit  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  field. 

During  my  sojourn  in  Springfield,  I  learned  the  cause 
of  Sigel's  discomfiture  in  the  early  part  of  the  engage- 
ment. He  was  ordered  to  go  to  a  certain  point,  where 
he  was  to  meet  a  part  of  our  forces ;  and  seeing  a  regi- 
ment from  Louisiana  advancing,  he  supposed  from  their 


WILSON'S  CREEK.  47 

gra}'  uniforms  that  they  were  the  Iowa  troops ;  nor  did 
he  discover  his  mistake  until  within  thirty  yards  of 
them,  when  the  Rebels  opened  a  tremendous  lire  upon  his 
conuuand,  throwing  them  into  a  confusion  from  which 
they  could  not  recover. 

I  saw  the  spot  where  the  noble  Lyon  fell ;  where  every 
officer  of  distinction  fought  and  died ;  where  Totten  drove 
back  with  fearful  slaugliter  the  Rebel  cavalry ;  where 
every  memorable  act  of  that  eventful  day  occurred. 

I  belield,  too,  the  traces  of  the  Aiigust  battle  in  frag- 
ments of  clothing ;  in  occasional  cups  and  canteens ;  in 
the  rude  and  unmarked  graves;  in  the  skeletons  of 
horses  and  mules,  and  in  the  whitening  bones  of  some 
of  the  soldiers  whose  bodies  had  not  been  found,  and 
were  therefore  deprived  of  sepulture. 

Out  of  the  short  grass  and  among  the  brown  and 
yellow  and  crimson  leaves  looked  more  than  one  grin- 
ning skull — a  grim  satire  on  the  glory  of  War,  and  the 
•  pomp  of  the  hollow  world. 

One  skeleton  in  particular  impressed  me. 

It  lay  in  a  bent  position  on  the  back,  with  out- 
stretched arms,  as  if  begging  for  mercy,  or  seeking  to 
protect  itself  from  an  advancing  foe. 

The  flesh  was  all  gone ;  but  the  woollen  socks  were 
still  on  the  feet ;  the  pantaloons  upon  the  bones  where 
once  the  legs  had  been  ;  while  the  eyeless  sockets,  the 
prominent  and  gleaming  teeth,  the  bony  horror  of  the 
skull,  seemed  to  rebuke  the  pretensions  of  Life  and  make 
a  mockery  of  Death, 

In  a  tree,  at  the  foot  of  which  the  skeleton  lay,  the 
birds  were  singing,  and  out  of  the  clear  sky  a  flood  of 


48  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

warm  and  genial  sunsliine  was  falling,  as  if  Nature,  in 
its  largeness  and  goodness,  failed  to  recognize  the  strifes 
and  errors  of  Man,  and  paved  with  splendor  even  the 
once  sanguinary  spot  where  her  laws  had  been  profaned. 

In  a  few  days,  not  far  from  there — then  I  thought — that 
dreadful  scene  will  be  re-enacted ;  and  hearts  that  now 
beat  high  with  Hope  and  Love  and  Ambition,  and  lips 
that  are  yet  moist  with  memories  of  sacred  kisses,  will, 
ere  long,  be  moldering  in  the  dust,  and  the  Autumn 
winds  singing  their  requiem  in  the  vast  cathedral  of 
this  whirling,  sphere. 

Looking  out  of  the  tent  as  I  so  reflected,  all  was 
formless  before  my  baffled  eyes. 

I  heard  no  sound. 

A  hush  as  of  death  rested  over  the  canvas  city  of  the 
outspread  plain. 

How  many  were  dreaming  there  of  Home  and  Happi- 
ness, of  Honor  and  Success,  that  would  never  know 
them  beyond  the  domain  of  Dreams,  or  have  tlie  long- 
ings of  their  spirit  satisfied  until  the  angel  of  the  Ideal 
rests  his  flight  upon  the  rough  marble  of  the  Actual,  and 
witli  the  magic  shadow  of  his  wings  makes  the  Real  seem 
the  Beautiful  and  True. 

The  sky  tliat  night  was  dark  and  mysterious — deep- 
ening with  blackness  in  the  Nortli — no  star  visible — no 
watching  moon — as  if  out  of  that  quarter  were  coming 
an  element  of  wrath  to  punish  the  perfidious  and  tyrannic 
South. 

May  the  omen  be  verified  !  my  heart  murmured  then  ; 
and  the  omen  has  been  since,  my  knowledge  now  de- 
clares. 


ZAGONYI'S  RIDE  TO  DEATH.  49 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

ZAGONYl'S  RIDE  TO   DEATH. 

Charge  of  the  Fremont  Body-Guard. — Its  Desperate  Character. — The  Heavy  Loss. 
— Scene  of  the  Engagement. — Description  of  the  Battle. — Progress  of  the 
Ride.— Flight  of  the  Foe.— After  the  Struggle. 

That  terrible  charge,  -vvliich  lias  been  aptly  named 
*'Zagonyi's  Ride  to  Death,"  was  the  theme  of  conversa- 
tion at  Springfield  weeks  after  its  occurrence  ;  and,  though, 
many  censured  the  act  as  entirely  unnecessary,  and  there- 
fore unmilitary — a  needless  sacrifice  of  life,  in  a  word — 
all  agreed  in  pronouncing  it  one  of  the  most  daring  and 
brilliant  achievements  in  the  annals  of  modern  Varfare. 

"While,  from  a  mere  military  point  of  view,  every  one 
must  condemn  the  action ;  while  it  shows  no  more  gener- 
alship than  would  an  order  for  a  squad  of  raw  troops  to 
charge  in  the  face  of  a-  hundred  death-belching  batteries, 
no  one  can  fail  to  admire  the  perfect  dare-devilism  and 
magnificent  recklessness  with  which  one  hundred  and  fifty 
young  men,  entirely  inexperienced  in  war,  swept  like  a 
whirlwind,  through  a  most  murderous  fire  from  a  double 
column  they  could  not  reach  with  their  sabers,  upon  fif- 
teen hundred  determined  troops,  and,  in  spite  of  prepar- 
ation and  position,  put  them  to  a  most  inglorious  flight. 

All  things  taken  into  consideration,  I  doubt  if  that 
martial  feat  has  ever  been  surpassed  on  the  field.  The 
Fremont  Body-Guard  were  all  young  and  uninitiated, 


50  FOUPw  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

scarcely  one  of  them  liaving  been  before  under  fire ; 
•without  any  food  worthy  of  mention,  or  rest,  for  forty- 
eight  hours,  or  a  cavahy  drill  on  horseback,  and  having 
riddeji  over  seventy-eight  miles  previous  to  the  engage- 
ment ;  and  yet,  under  all  these  overwhelming  disadvan- 
tages, they  did  not  hesitate  to  attack,  with  all  the  odds 
against  them,  a  force  of  fresh  troops  nearly  fourteen  times 
greater  than  their  own. 

Large  as  their  loss  was — ascertained  to  be  seventeen 
killed,  twenty-eight  wounded  (two  mortally),  and  ten 
missing,  with  sixty  horses  killed,  and  one  hundred  and 
forty  more  or  less  wounded — it  seems  incredible  that 
their  loss  was  not  much  greater ;  that  every  other  man 
did  not  perish  on  the  field. 

I  have  visited  the  scene  of  the  terrific  engagement  sev- 
eral times,  and  the  more  I  learned  of  the  charge,  the  more 
I  wondered  it  could  have  been  successful.  Surely  it  was 
horribly  gi'and,  sanguinarily  glorious. 

Even  now  I  see  the  charge  as  plainly  as  if  it  were 
passing  before  my  eyes.     Ghastly,  but  glorious  picture ! 

My  heart  would  have  sunk  if  it  had  not  swelled  ;  my 
blood  would  have  curdled  if  it  had  not  tingled,  as  the 
wild  panorama  flashed  before  my  mental  vision  ! 

On  that  warm,  bright,  beautiful,  autumnal  afternoon, 
the  breezes  voluptuously  dallying  with  the  golden  and 
crimson  leaves  of  the  drowsy  trees,  and  the  birds  singing 
a  glad  hymn  to  lovely  though  pensive  October,  a  gallant 
troop  of  cavalry  go  prancing  down  the  brown  and  dusty 
road,  their  voices  sounding  merrily,  and  their  sabers 
clattering  harmoniously  at  their  sides.  On  they  go,  and 
suddenly,  out  of  a  thick  wood,  where  the  birds  are  still 


ZAGONYI'S  RIDE  TO  DEATH.  51 

singing,  and  Nature  seems  performing  lier  silent  myteries 
in  the  ancient  groves,  five  hundred  muskets  rain  their 
leaden  messengers  upon  tlie  little  band. 

The  horses  plunge  and  neigh,  and  four  brave  riders 
reel  upon  their  saddles  and  fall  without  a  groan  heavily 
to  the  ground. 

No  enemy  is  visible  through  the  trees ;  but  a  glance 
to  the  east,  over  the  little  hill,  shows  fifteen  hundred 
foemen,  with  deadly  weapons  in  their  hands  and  a  deadly 
glitter  in  their  eye,  ranged  on  each  side  of  the  narrow 
road  through  which  they  must  pass. 

Inevitable  death  seems  to  stare  them  in  the  face. 

The  floating  clouds  above  their  heads  seem  like  their 
descending  shrouds. 

The  bright  sun  seems  shining  the  last  time  for  them. 

All  their  past  rushes  in  a  moment  through  tlieir  mind. 

Forsaken  scenes  of  home,  of  friends,  of  those  beloved, 
rise  in  painful  contrast  to  tlieir  swimming  view. 

But  with  the  seconds  speed  recollection  and  regret. 
The  dread  present  stands  there,  inexorable,  and  demands 
to  be  answered. 

Tlie  commander's  voice  rings  out  like  a  clarion  :  "Fol- 
low me,  my  brave  boys  !"  "  Fremont  and  the  Union  !" 
"Victory  or  death!" 

No  hesitation  now ;  no  pause. 

Determination  flashes  from  every  eye.  The  Will  has 
triumphed,  and  Nature  has  succumbed. 

The  cry  is  caught  up,  and  along  the  entire  line  echoes 
and  re-echoes :  "  Fremont  and  the  Union  !  Yictory  or 
death!" 

The  horses  plunge  forward  as  the  rowels  are  buried  in 


52  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

their  sides,  and,  yelling  like  savages,  the  cavalry  rush 
down  the  road  through  a  continuous  and  deadly  fire. 

Here  a  rider  tumbles ;  there  a  noble  steed  falls.  On 
this  side,  a  Guard  clasps  his  hand  to  his  breast,  as  a  ball 
strikes  home.  On  the  other,  a  stream  of  blood  starts 
from  the  temple  of  a  youthful  warrior  ;  his  limbs  relax  ; 
his  saber  falls  from  his  nerveless  hand ;  his  eye  glazes ; 
his  head  sinks  upon  his  horse's  neck;  he  is  dead  upon 
his  bounding  steed. 

The  dust  and  smoke  arise  in  clouds,  and  commingle, 
and  the  din  of  battle  swells ;  and  the  noise  of  musketry 
shatters  the  surrounding  silence  of  the  charming  after- 
noon. Still  goes  on  the  ride  of  the  horsemen-^the  ride 
to  death.  Their  carbines  and  pistols  are  in  their  hands, 
and  they  return  the  gaUing  fire,  and  many  a  Eebel  dies 
ere  he  can  ask  Heaven' s  pardon  for  his  sins.  While  an 
absent  mother  or  sister  is  praying  for  his  safety,  there 
he  lies  dead,  with  a  bullet  through  his  heart. 

Now  the  fearless  cavalry  have  ridden  through  the  fire 
of  death,  and  paused  before  one  of  the  fences  separatmg 
them  from  their  malignant^  foes. 

The  fence  must  be  let  down,  and  four  brave  fellows  are 
soon  dismounted,  and,  under  a  heavy  fire,  perfonn  their 
task  as  coolly  as  if  they  were  executing  an  every- day 
labor.  At  this  point  four  or  five  of  the  Guard  are  shot 
down,  and  in  a  moment  all  who  are  unhurt  are  dashing 
through  the  opening  into  the  adjacent  field,  where  the 
Rebels  are  formed  in  a  hollow  square. 

The  Body  Guard  fonn  in  a  double  column,  and  spread 
out,  fan-like,  to  the  north  and  south,  and  with  tremendous 
cries  of  "Hurrah  for  Cincinnati!"   "Old  Kentucky  for- 


ZAGONYI'S  RIDE  TO  DEATU.  68 

ever!"  "Remember  the  Queen  City,  boys!  do  nothing 
she  will  be  ashamed  of !"  they  charge  upon  the  Rebels 
with  a  terrible  energy. 

The  foe  endeavors  to  sustain  the  shock,  and  for  a  minute 
stands  his  ground  ;  but  tlie  Body  Guard,  Major  Zagonyi 
at  their  head,  fight  like  devils  ;  and  cutting  with  their 
sabers  to  the  right  and  left,  and  riding  over  the  enemy, 
and  trampling  him  under  their  horses'  feet,  the  Seces- 
sionists give  way,  and,  breaking  their  square,  retire  to  a 
iientral  position. 

Here  the  Guards  are  again  upon  them,  and  their  energy 
and  ferocity  seem  to  increase  as  the  fight  continues,  and 
the  Rebels,  unable  to  resist  their  furious  attack,  break 
into  small  bodies,  and  run  in  every  direction,  seeking 
shelter  in  the  bushes  and  behind  the  trees ;  firing,  as 
rapidly  as  they  can  load,  upon  their  pursuers. 

The  Rebels  are  soon  dislodged  from  their  place  of 
shelter,  and  those  on  horseback  put  a  safe  distance 
betweei*  themselves  and  harm,  and  seek  the  adjacent 
country  through  the  woods. 

The  infantry  fly  to  the  corn-fields  and  down  the  road 
leading  to  Springfield,  and  are  closely  followed  by  the 
victorious  Guards,  who,  with  pistol,  carbine,  and  saber, 
continue  the  work  of  destruction  until  their  blades  reek 
with  blood,  and  tlieir  tired  arms  hang  heavy  at  their  sides. 

Up  and  down  the  streets  of  tlie  town  fly  the  affrighted 
Rebels,  still  retaining  their  weapons.  " 

Women  and  children  stand  pale  with  fear,  gazing,  with 
the  strange  fascination  that  courage  excites,  through 
closed  windows  at  the  horrid  spectacle. 

Here  a  youth  lies  with  his  skull  cloven  to  his  cheek ; 


54  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

there  the  life  of  an  aged  man  ebbs  away  through  a  purple 
wound. 

B«>fore  that  peaceful  dwelling  an  expiring  Rebel  glares 
with  powerless  hatred  upon  an  unhorsed  Guard  whose 
eyes  are  swimming  in  death. 

In  the  public  square,  two  foes  are  breathing  their  last 
in  each  other's  arms — the  embrace  of  tliose  who  grapple 
at  one  another's  throats  while  falling  into  the  grave. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  Court-house,  a  son  lies  dead 
upon  the  corpse  of  a  father  he  had  sought  to  save  in 
vain  ;  and  in  the  bend  of  yonder  lane  two  brothers  of  the 
Guard  are  striving  to  gasp  out  last  words  to  each  other, 
before  this  World  fades  forever  from  their  glassy  eyes. 

After  a  dreadful  hour,  tliat  must  have  seemed  a  minute 
to  some,  to  others  an  age — the  battle,  the  rout,  the  slaugh- 
ter is  over. 

The  sinking  sun  looked  with  a  crimson  glow  upon  the 
gory  battle-held,  upon  the  piles  of  lifeless  chargers,  upon 
the  wounded,  the  dying,  and  the  dead — Unio^sts  and 
Rebels — who  had  sealed  their  devotion  with  their  blood. 

A  melancholy  offering  was  that  upon  the  altar  of 
patriotism.  Human  victims  lay  upon  the  disputed 
ground ;  loud,  agonizing  groans  and  cries  of  pity,  and 
even  bitter  curses,  went  up  together  to  the  peaceful 
heaven,  bending  in  blue  beauty  over  all — upon  the 
Northman  and  the  Southron  alike,  upon  the  friend  of 
the  Union  and  its  foe. 

And,  long  after  the  voiceless  midnight,  the  moon 
glided  up  the  clear  sky,  like  a  celestial  nun,  telling  her 
rosary  of  stars,  and  praying  silently  for  the  gallant  spirits 
that  had  so  bravely  fought,  so  bravely  died. 


THE  RETROGRADE  MOVEMENT.  55 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   RETROGRADE  MOVEMENT. 

The  Return  to  RoUa.— A  Ghastly  Jest— A  Brace  of  Fair  Bohemians. — Tho 
Discrediting  Effect  of  Camp  Attire. — A  Night  in  a  Barn. — Potency  of  an 
Army  Puss. 

Every  one  knows  liow  Fremont  was  removed  at 
Springfield,  and  that  Hunter,  after  succeeding  him, 
made  a  grand  retrograde  movement  to  RoUa.  Tlie  ex- 
citement produced  by  that  event  I  do  not  care  to  par- 
ticularize, nor  to  express  at  this  late  day  any  opinion  of 
the  justice  or  injustice  of  the  measure. 

Fremont  is  out  of  the  service  ;  and  let  the  dissensions 
to  which  his  enthusiastic  friends  and  his  bitter  enemies 
gave  rise  die  with  the  causes  that  made  them. 

At  that  time  hardly  any  of  the  War-Correspondents 
had  witnessed  a  battle  worthy  of  the  name  ;  and  when 
they  turned  their  back  upon  Springfield,  where  they  had 
fully  expected  to  chronicle  a  decisive  engagement,  and 
share  in  some  of  its  hazards,  they  were  vexed,  chagrined, 
and  disappointed,  as  was  the  whole  Army — I  have  never 
seen  a  better  one  of  its  size — on  its  countermarch  to 
Rolla. 

The  Correspondent  of  the  St.  Louis  Democrat— ^or 
three  years  past  an  officer  in  the  Navy — and  myself 
brought  up  the  rear,  and  journeyed  leisurely  witli  (Gen- 
eral Wyman's  brigade  over  the  Ozark  Mountains  back 
toward  St.  Louis. 


56  FOUR  YEARS  IJT  SECESSIA. 

On  our  retrograde  movement  in  Laclede  County,  on  the 
niglit  of  November  11th,  a  very  sudden  death  occurred 
at  Camp  Plummer,  proving  that  the  skeleton-king  oft 
comes  when  least  expected — passing  from  the  blazing 
battery  to  strike  his  victim  in  the  midst  of  security  and 
peace. 

A  young  man,  Henry  Holt,  bugler  of  Major  Power's 
cavalry,  attached  to  the  Thirteenth  Regiment,  was  com- 
plaining of  feeling  rather  ill,  when  the  Quartermaster, 
Captain  Henderson,  who  had  a  passion  for  aught  like 
fun,  proposed  to  bury  the  musician  ;  and,  in  the  spirit  of 
merriment,  seized  a  spade,  and,  after  measuring  the  corn- 
plainer,  dug  a  grave  of  his  exact  proportions. 

The  bugler  laughed,  as  did  his  companions,  at  the 
humor  of  the  officer,  and  soon  after  went  away  to  dis- 
charge some  duty  with  which  he  had  been  intrusted. 

About  nine  o'clock  the  same  evening.  Holt  was  sit- 
ting, with  seven  or  eight  of  his  company,  about  a  camp 
fire,  within  a  few  feet  of  the  grave,  when  some  one 
pointed  to  it  and  remarked,  in  a  tone  of  badinage, 

*'  Come,  Harry,  get  ready  for  your  funeral !" 

The  youth  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  gloomy 
cavity  in  the  earth,  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  and  fell 
from  his  stool. 

His  companions  laughed  at  the  little  piece  of  acting,  as 
they  supposed  it,  and  were  surprised  that  he  did  not 
rise  from  the  earth. 

They  went  up  to  him,  asking,  "Are  you  asleep, 
Harry?" 

He  made  no  answer,  and  yet  his  eyes  were  open. 

They  shook  him  in  vain. 


THE  EETROGRADE  MOVEMENT.  57 

His  friends  grew  alarmed.  One  placed  his  hand  upon 
Harry' s  heart.     It  was  still :  he  was  dead  ! 

He  had  perished  of  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  and  was 
buried  at  midnight,  in  the  grave  made  for  him  in  jest 
"by  a  merry-hearted  friend. 

And  so  the  droll  jest  was  drowned  in  the  hollow 
sound  of  the  earth  falling  upon  a  rude  cofRn,  and  sol- 
emnly waking  the  stillness  of  the  night-morn  amid  the 
solitude  of  a  broad  prairie  of  the  southwest. 

*  *  *  * 

During  the  last  two  or  three  days  of  our  march,  its 
monotony  was  relieved  by  the  companionship  of  two 
young  and  cultivated  women  who  were  on  their  way 
to  St.  Louis,  under  the  protection  of  the  army.  With 
a  positive  passion  for  Beauty,  Nature,  Poetry,  and 
Romance,  their  conversation  beguiled  the  weary  hours, 
and  often  their  light-hearted  laugh  made  the  desolate 
mountain  silences  echo  with  gladness. 

Quite  Bohemianish,  and  certainly  fond  of  adventure, 
were  those  fair  girls,  who  frequently  regretted  they  were 
not  men,  that  they  might  be  emancipated  from  the 
narrowness  Society  imposed  upon  them. 

My  journalistic  companion  and  myself  explained  to 
them  the  character  of  the  Bohemian  Brigade,  and  with 
their  full  permission  elected  them  honorary  members 
of  that  unique  society. 

The  girls  and  we  duo  of  Bohemians  liad  a  good  deal 
of  jtmusement  in  riding,  walking,  fording  creeks  and 
rivers,  and  exploding,  to  our  satisfaction,  the  multifa- 
rious shams  of  modern  society  and  present-day  custom. 

Our  journeying  was  romantic,  and  certainly  agreeable, 


58  FOUPw  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

after  our  long  absence  from  feminine  society.  We  parted 
with  the  fair  girls,  not,  I  believe,  without  mutual  regret, 
and  never  probably  to  see  them  more. 

They  were  Bohemians  then  ;  but  Society  and  Custom 
have  perhaps  ere  this  made  them  conform. 

The}'^  are  still  young  and  romantic ;  but  a  few  years 
will    doubtless    find    them    deteriorated    into    domestic 
drudges,    shut    out    forever    by    household    necessities 
from  the  land  of  Bohemia  and  the  realm  of  the  Ideal. 
■X-  *  *  -x- 

Arriving  near  Rolla  on  Saturday,  the  correspondent 
of  the  Democrat  and  myself  concluded  to  go  to  town  and 
stop  at  a  hotel,  hoping  to  become  accustomed  ere  long 
to  civilized  life  once  more. 

We  did  so  in  our  campaign  costume ;  and  before  the 
landlord  learned  who  we  were,  he  evinced  great  distrust 
of  our  honest}',  and  asked  us,  in  a  very  polite  manner, 
just  as  we  were  about  to  take  a  walk  after  dinner,  if  it 
would  be  convenient  for  us  to  pay  for  our  meal. 

We  laughed,  and  told  him  our  profession,  and  that 
our  baggage  was  in  his  house — a  fact  of  which  he  was 
unconscious — when  he  apologized,  and  said  he  thought 
we  might  have  forgotten  so  small  an  amount  of  indebted- 
ness, as  we  doubtless  had  many  more  hnportant  things 
to  remember. 

This  little  incident  proves  the  truth  of  Ilerr  Teufels- 
droch's  opinion  respecting  the  power  of  clothes. 

Had  we  been  attired  as  we  would  have  been  in  the 
city,  he  would  have  danced  attendance  on  us  all  day ; 
but,  fresh  from  camp,  he  imagined  us  suspicious  char- 
acters, designing  to  swindle  him  out  of  a  mere  trifle. 


THE  RETROGRADE  MOVEMENT.  59 

That  iri  a  line  sentimeut  Sliaikspeare  put  in  the  mouth 
of  old  Polonius : 

"  It  is  the  mind  that  makes  the  body  rich ; 
And  as  the  sun  brealcs  throiifjch  the  darkest  cloud, 
So  honor  peeretli  in  the  meanest  habit." 

But  I  fear  the  sentiment  is  not  at  all  true  with  the 
great  mass  of  the  people,  who  believe  there  is  an  in- 
separable association  between  dishonesty  and  damaged 
attire. 

When  night  came  we  found  every  particle  of  hotel  space 
in  the  miserable  village  of  Rolla  occupied  ;  and  as  a  last 
resource  we  repaired  to  the  barn,  never  before  having 
had  the  pleasure  of  sleeping  in  such  a  place  ;  expecting, 
hoAvever,  we  might  be  a  little  Jioarse  in  the  morning. 

We  carried  our  blankets  to  the  barn,  where  we  found 
several  otlier  bed-despairing  individuals,  and  were  soon 
ensconced  in  a  self-made  couch  composed  of  woolen 
and  hay. 

As  there  was  a  heavy  storai  during  the  night,  the  rain 
on  the  roof  and  the  wind  sighing  through  the  loose 
weather-boarding  conjured  up  poetic  pictures  to  the 
imagination,  and  transformed  the  desolate  old  barn  into 
an  Aladdin's  palace  of  fancy. 

About  daylight,  one  of  the  sleepers  discovered  he 
had  fallen  into  a  hay-rack ;  another  was  awakened  by 
a  hostler  endeavoring  to  put  a  halter  around  his  neck  ; 
and  a  third  by  the  thrusting  of  a  pitch-fork  within  an 
inch  of  his  head,  which  had  been  mistaken  for  a  part 
of  a  bundle  of  oats. 

We  paid  our  bilj  to  the  rural  Boniface,  including  fifty 

cents  for  lodging  in  the  barn — that  was  cheap,  consider- 
5 


60  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

ing  that  more  was  charged  for  reposing  in  the  shadow 
of  the  town-pump — and  we  are  soon  on  the  eve  of  de- 
parture for  St.  Louis  by  the  railway,  whicli  appears  odd 
enough  after  long  weeks  of  nothing  but  equine  journeys. 
•3f  *  *  -x- 

An  incident  occurred  the  evening  after  our  arrival  in 
St.  Louis,  at  one  of  the  dancing  halls  in  the  city,  of  rather 
an  amusing  nature. 

Two  of  the  Bohemian  Brigade  were  admiring  the  danc- 
ing of  a  pretty  girl  on  the  stage,  when  one  of  them  de- 
termined to  go  behind  the  scenes  and  pour  his  tale  of 
burning  passion  into  what  he  conceived  would  neces- 
sarily be  her  all-attentive  ear. 

He  accordingly  presented  himself  at  the  stage-door, 
and  was  very  naturally  refused  admission ;  whereuj^on 
lie  drew  out  an  army  pass,  and  said  that  gave  him  the 
privilege  of  going  anywhere,  at  any  time,  in  the  territory 
of  the  United  States,  and  that  whoever  disobeyed  the 
order  would  be  arrested  at  once. 

This  very  bold  statement  was  accompanied  by  such 
a  magnificent  manner  of  authority  and  importance  that 
the  guardian  of  the  portal,  without  reading  the  pass, 
allowed  the  holder  to  enter,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
adroit  Bohemian  was  seeking  to  convince  the  Terpis- 
chorean  divinty  that  he  had  never  believed  in  love  until 
he  had  seen  her  an  hour  before,  and  that  for  the  future 
the  earth  would  be  desolate  unless  revivified  by  her 
smile. 


SECESSION  IN  MISSOURI.  61 


CHAPTER  X. 

SECESSION   IN   MISSOURI. 

The  Ferainine  Secessionists  of  St.  Louis. — Their  Parrot-like  Raving. — Their  Ile- 
semblanco  to  Bamaby  Rudge's  Raven. — Harmlessncss  of  Petticoated  Traitors. 
— Sale  of  Rebel  Property. — Curious  Scene. — A  Mysterious  Article. 

The  principal  element  of  Secession  in  St.  Louis,  early 
in  the  War,  was,  and  probably  is  still,  in  the  women,  wlio, 
having  the  privilege  of  saying  what  they  pleased,  were 
often  lond  in  their  denunciations  of  the  Government,  and 
profuse  in  their  expressions  of  symimthy  with  the  South. 
They  talked  an  infinite  deal  of  Rebel  fustian  ;  but  it 
meant  nothing,  and  did  no  harm. 

There,  as  in  the  other  Slave  State  cities.  Secession  was 
the  mode,  and  that,  combined  witli  what  was  then  the 
newness  of  tlie  doctrine,  was  sufficient  to  make  almost 
any  woman  its  exponent. 

Many  silly  girls  in  St.  Louis  thought  tliey  would  not 
bo  fashionable  unless  they  talked  treason  ;  and  they  did 
it  systematically,  just  as  they  wore  a  certain  kind  of 
mantle  or  a  peculiar  style;  of  bonnet. 

Brainless  women  sjioke  of  the  outrages  of  the  JSToith 
and  of  the  wrongs  of  the  South,  without  having  any  more 
idea  of  the  meaning  of  tlie  words  than  a  parrot  tliat  lias 
caught  the  sound  has  of  a  metaphysical  phrase  of  Ficlite 
or  Hegel,  and  screams  it  out  to  every  passer-by. 

The  political'  conversation  of  many  of  the  feminine 


G2  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Secessionists  in  that  town  reminded  one  of  the  raven, 
Grip,  in  "Barnaby  Rudge,"  on  the  night  when  that 
sagacious  bird  endeavored  to  recollect  the  valuable  ad- 
monition to  a  popiihir  tliough  mysterious  Polly,  respect- 
ing the  preparation  of  the  evening  meal. 

Grip  could  recollect   "Polly  put  the  ket ,"   but 

there  his  memory  failed,  and  drowsiness  overcame  him. 
At  last  he  caught  the  remainder  of  the  quotation,  and 
uttered : 

"  Polly  jnit  the  kettle  on, 
Aud  we'll  all  take  tea. 
I'm  a  devil!     I'm  a  devil!     I'm  a  devil! 
Fire,  fire,  fire !     Never  say  die ! 
I'm  a  kettle  on  !     I'm  a  fire ! 
Never  say  kettle  on,  we'll  all  take  Polly. 
I'm  a  fire — kettle — on  devil — I'm  a ." 

and  he  fell  asleep  again. 

All  that  would  have  been  necessary  to  complete  the 
comparison  between  the  women  and  Grip  would  have 
been  for  liim  to  declare  himself  a  Secessionist,  for  certainly 
his  speech  was  no  more  mixed  and  irrelevant  than  the 
arguments  of  the  petticoated  traitors. 

All  they  could  tell  you  was  that  they  were  Secession- 
ists ;  but  what  that  meant,  or  why  they  were  so,  or  what 
they  wanted,  or  how  they  were  injured,  was  beyond 
their  power  of  representation. 

Secession  women  are  amusing,  at  any  rate,  and,  so  long 
as  they  confine  themselves  to  talking,  do  no  harm,  unless 
to  some  false  reputation  they  may  have  acquired  for 
understanding. 

Women,  at  best,  are  what  men  make  of  them.  Tliey 
shine  by  a  borrowed  light,  and  see  through  the  eyes  of 
their  last  lover. 


SECESSION  IN"  MISSOURI.  G3 

t 

Lot  me  know  a  ■woiium's  nearest  friend,  and  I  will  tell 

you  wliat  are  her  opinions  and  her  tastes. 

I  have  been  not  a  little  entertained  at  the  conversation 
I  have  had  with  some  of  the  pretty  Rebels  in  the  South, ' 
who,  with  their  little  doll  faces,  express  the  most  pan<];;ui- 
nary  sentiments,  andlioi3ethe  "Yankees"  willallbekillc^d, 
in  the  blandest  of  tones,  and  with  tlie  sweetest  of  smileg. 

Their  efforts  to  perform  the  role  of  desperate  traitors 
appear  like  the  endeavor  of  a  rose-bud  to  convert  itself 
into  a  Paixhan  gun  or  a  sub-marine  battery. 

But  enough  of  those  dear  little  know-nothings,  all  of 
whom  would  not  mar  the  peace  of  the  most  sentimental 
school-boy  that  ever  moistened  with  his  tears  the  pages 
of  the  "Sorrows  of  Werther." 

*  *  -;r  * 

The  sale  in  St.  Louis,  during  February,  18G2,  of  the 
goods  seized  from  assessed  Rebels,  by  a  Fourth  street 
auctioneer,  attracted  a  very  dense  crowd. 

So  great  was  the  curiosity  excited,  that  the  thorough- 
fare before  the  building  was  blocked,  the  street-cars 
compelled  to  stop,  and  the  serried  mass  on  the  track 
dispersed,  before  the  conveyance  could  advance. 

Several  of  the  war  correspondents  then  sojoiu-ning  in 
that  city,  waiting  for  coming  events,  witnessed  the  sale  of 
the  confiscated  pianos,  tables,  buggies,  mirrorsJ  center- 
tables,  vases,  rugs,  lamps,  chess-boards,  and  other  arti- 
cles of  household  furniture  and  ornament,  and  were 
amused  at  the  grotesque  appearance  of  the  pressing, 
jostling,  excited,  anxious  crew  of  bidders  and  lookers  on. 

Old  and  young  women,  peddlers  and  pickpockets,  Jews 
and  journalists,  bar-keepers  and  book-wonns,  stevedores 


64  FOUR  TEAKS  IN  SECESSIA. 

and  strumpets,  printers  and  jDugilists,  authors  and  actors, 
loafers  and  litterateurs,  were  there  in  profusion  and  con- 
fusion. 
f  Here  was  a  venerable,  desiccated  proprietress  of  a 
Broadway  boarding-house — who,  for  a  lover  of  paleontol- 
ogy, would  have  been  an  interesting  study — in  close 
contact  with  a  youthful  and  pretty  woman,  whose  ele- 
gance of  toilette  was  surpassed  only  by  her  vapidity. 

Here  was  a  stalwart  slioulder-hitter  peeping  over  the 
glossy  hat  of  an  elaborat(?ly  done- up  dandy,  who  had 
braved  the  inclement  weather  to  purchase  his  "darling 
Julia's  21  ianali- stool,"  if  it  cost  him,  as  he  heroically 
expressed  it,  the  last  drop  of  his  blood. 

Near  the  awning-post  leaned  a  begrimed  artisan  upon 
the  shoulder  of  a  llashily-attired  gambler  ;  and,  a  feAV  feet 
off,  a  juvenile  vender  of  matches  was  pushing  liis  basket 
into  the  parabolic  apron  of  a  feminine  figure,  in  a  manner 
that  would  have  delighted  a  disciple  of  Malthus. 

Some  article  of  furniture,   said  by  the  auctioneer  to 

have  been  the  property  of  the  beautiful  Miss  ,  but 

which  I  could  not  see,  created  a  sensation,  and  was 
immediately  inclosed  by  a  living  wall  of  young  men,  as 
if  they  wished  to  act  as  a  body-guard,  fearful  that  some 
other  and  more  enterprising  citizen  would  carry  off  the 
mysterious  what-not. 

The  bidding  was  very  animated,  and  it  appeared  a 
point  of  honor  and  a  piece  of  gallantry  to  obtain  it  at  any 
price. 

"Five — ten — fifteen — twenty  dollars,"  said  the  auc- 
tioneer; "will  you  see  this  wonder  of  art,  this  glorious 
instrument,  sacrificed  at  such  a  rate  ? 


SECESSION  IN  MISSOURI.  65 

"  No  man  of  feeling  but  would  give  twice  the  sum.  Be 
generous,  gentlemen  ;  this  is  a  rare  opportunity. 

"•The  owner  of  this  is  not  poor,  but  she  is  beautiful. 
Bid  now,  like  men  who  are  true  to  themselves,  but  truer, 
to  the  sex." 

Thirty,  forty  dollars  was  offered,  and  finally  fifty  was 
named,  and  the  apocryphal  article  sold. 

I  here  made  another  desperate  but  unsuccessful  effort 
to  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  furniture,  and  still  marveling 
what  it  could  have  been,  even  after  I  had  heard  a  fellow 
say:  "It  was  not  worth  one-tenth  so  much,  but  I  sup- 
pose it  was  valuable  from  association." 

The  sale  of  seized  property  Avas,  I  learned,  quite  profit- 
able, and  certainly  attracted  a  large  crowd,  who  enjoyed 
the  auction  exceedingly,  and  carried  off  the  various 
articles  as  if  they  had  been  trophies  of  war,  instead  of  the 
most  harmless  instruments  of  peace. 


66  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  XL 

BATTLE   OF  DONELSON. 

March  from  Fort  Henry  to  the  Field. — Troubles  of  the  Correspondents. — Difficulty 
of  Subsistence. — Courage  of  our  Soldiers. — E.xamples  of  Sacrilice  and  Heroism. 
— Gallaut  Charge. — Amateur  Shar[)shooting. — Mortification  of  the  Enemy  after 
the  Surrender. — Desperation  of  the  Rebels. — Repudiation  of  the  Five  to  One 
Boast. — Ghastly  Wounds. — Touching  Incidents. 

The  army  correspondents  had  no  power,  through  love 
or  largess,  to  obtain  horses  on  their  February  campaign 
in  Tennessee,  the  second  yt^ar  of  the  War. 

The  talisman  of  the  Press  had  lost  its  equine  potency, 
and  most  of  the  war-pursuing  Bohemians  were  compelled 
to  go  to  the  field  from  Fort  Heniy  over  a  rough  and  miry 
road  in  a  pedestrianizing  capacity. 

Philosophers  complain  of  nothing ;  but,  to  a  vivid 
imagination,  the  prospect  of  the  approaching  fight  was 
Jnore  unique  than  fascinating. 

I  fancied  the  Bohemians  wandering  over  the  field  knee- 
deep  in  mud,  liable,  without  uniforms  or  any  badge  of 
distinction,  to  be  mistaken  by  each  side  for  foes,  and,  in 
the  event  of  a  defeat,  to  T)e  ridden  down  and  shot  at, 
under  suspicion  of  being  Rebels,  in  the  most  miscella- 
neous and  magnificent  manner. 

So  I  fancied ;  and  my  fancies  were  more  than  half 
realized. 

No  one  cares  for  a  Bohemian,  I  hope,  and  no  true 
Bohemian  cares  who  cares  for  him. 

If,  to  speak  typographically,  he  is  set  up  leaded  with  a 


BATTLE   OF  DONELSOI^.  67 

sliooting-stick,  or  liis  form  is  knocked  into  everlasting  pi 
by  a  sliell,  no  column-rule  will  be  turned  for  liim.  There 
will  be  merely  one  journalist  less  in  the  World,  and  one 
more  pliase  of  boredom  exhausted. 

For  any  ill-fated  quill-driver  who  may  breakfast  witb 
Proserpine  one  of  these  dull  mornings,  I  have  composed 
an  epitaph,  which  notliing  but  regard  for  my  readers,  and 
the  memory  of  the  deceased  that  is  to  be,  prevents  me 
from  inserting  here. 

Well  I  remember  how  we  of  the  Press  wandered  about 
that  hard-fought  field,  half-starvM  and  half-frozen,  hav- 
ing left  oui*  blankets  and  india-rubbers  behind,  and 
brought  no  rations  with  us  ;  supposing,  as  did  every  one 
in  the  army,  that  the  capture  of  Donelson  would  be 
a  simple  before-breakfast  recreation. 

Few  of  us,  as  I  have  said,  had  horses ;  and,  being 
without  tents,  provisions,  or  sufficient  clothing— particu- 
larly after  the  sudden  change,  on  the  day  of  our  arrival, 
from  Spring-life  softness  and  warmth  to  raw,  biting, 
penetrating  wind  and  storm,  followed  by  sleet,  snow, 
and  severe  wintry  weather — we  suffered  greatly,  but, 
fortunately  for  us,  not  long. 

At  Fort  Henry  an  explosion  of  a  box  of  ammunition 
had  dashed  a  piece  of  cartridge-paper  into  one  of  my 
optics,  which  soon  inflamed  the  other  through  sjnnpathy, 
and  made  me  nearly  blind. 

For  three  days  I  groped  over  the  frozen  and  snowy 
ground,  and,  with  my  companion  of  the  New  York  Worldy 
followed,  from  time  to  time,  anny  wagons,  to  pick  up 
pieces  of  hard  bread  which  were  jolted  out  semi-occasion- 
ally  over  the  rough  roads. 


68  FOUR  YEAPS  IN  SECESSIA. 

I  tliouglit  that  (lifTicult  to  endure  then ;  but,  since  my 
long  apprenticeship  in  Rebel  prisons,  I  regard  by  com- 
parison all  previous  experience  of  my  life,  however 
unpleasant  and  painful,  as  a  path  of  roses  and  a  stream 
of  joy. 

The  battle  of  Donelson,  or  siege  of  Fort  Donelson,  as  it 
is  often  called,  was  continued  by  land  and  water  for  four 
daj^s,  February  12th,  13th,  14th,  and  15th  ;  though,  from 
the  position  of  the  Rebel  works  on  the  river,  our  gun- 
boats were  enabled  to  do  little  toward  the  obtainment  of 
the  victory. 

The  country  about  Donelson  was  very  uneven,  being 
surrounded  by  high  hillig,  and  covered  in  many  places 
with  trees  and  undergrowth,  so  that  nothing  could  be 
seen  of  the  main  work  from  any  point  of  land  that  our 
men  were  able  to  reach. 

Although  I  was  wandering  over  the  field  all  four  days, 
I  did  not  see  the  fort  projDer  myself,  nor  meet  a  single 
person  who  had  seen  it,  tliougli  the  outworks  were  visi- 
ble from  various  places,  and  the  Rebels  working  the 
guns. 

On  Saturday,  the  15th  inst.,  our  troops,  though  most  of 
them  had  never  been  under  fire,  fought  like  veterans, 
under  the  most  disadvantageous  circumstances,  having 
been  without  sleep  for  two  or  tlu-ee  nights,  and  without 
food  for  twenty-two  hours. 

All  the  officers  acted  coolly  and  gallantly,  and  encour- 
aged the  soldiers  hy  word  and  example. 

A  lieutenant  seized  the  colors  of  one  of  the  resiiments, 
after  the  ensign  had  been  shot  down,  and  bore  them  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight. 


BATTLE  OF  DONELSOK  69 

A  captain  of  one  of  the  companies  received  two  balls 
through  his  hat  and  three  through  his  coat  without  being 
conscious  of  his  narrow  escapes  until  after  the  battle. 

Tliree  or  four  of  the  otRcers  had  the  hair  of  their  head 
and  their  faces  grazed  by  musket-balls ;  and,  in  two  in- 
stances, the  skin  was  removed  from  the  ear  by  the  leaden, 
messengers  of  the  Rebels. 

An  orderly  sergeant,  seeing  a  Rebel  pointing  a  rifle  at 
the  captain  of  his  company,  threw  himself  before  his 
beloved  officer,  received  the  bullet  through  his  breast, 
and  fell  dead  in  the  arms  of  the  man  he  had  saved. 

The  sergeant,  I  learned,  had  been  reared  and  very  gen- 
erously treated  by  the  father  of  the  captain,  and  had 
declared,  when  he  first  enlisted,  that  he  would  be  happy 
to  die  to  save  the  life  of  his  benefactor's  son. 

Most  nobly  and  gloriously  did  he  redeem  his  promise. 

The  severest  and  the  decisive  contest  was  on  the  left  at 
the  close  of  Saturday.  General  C.  F.  Smith,  with  his 
division,  composed  of  Indiana,  Iowa,  and  Illinois  regi- 
ments, marched  up  to  the  breastworks,  and  engaged  the 
enemy  in  the  most  spirited  manner. 

The  Iowa  Second  was  the  first  regiment  that  scaled  the 
breastworks,  performing  the  hazardous  and  brilliant 
movement  in  masterly  style,  after  the  manner  of  the 
veterans  who  immortalized  themselves  in  the  wars  of 
Xapoleon. 

They  never  hesitated,  they  never  faltered,  but  with 
firm  step  and  flashing  eye,  passed,  without  firing  a  gun, 
into  tlie  Rebel  works. 

In  a  few  seconds  other  regiments  followed,  and  a  terri- 
ble strife  ensued  between  the  contending  parties.     The 


70  FOUR  TEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Secessionists  seemed  resolved  to  drive  the  Unionists  back, 
and  tlie  latter  equally  determined  not  to  surrender  the 
advantage  they  had  obtained. 

For  at  least  two  hours  the  rattling  of  musketry  Tvas 
•iinceasingly  heard,  and  the  armed  masses  surged  to  and 
/ro.  Fortune  appeared  to  favor  noTV  one  side,  and  now 
another. 

Ever  and  anon,  a  loud  cheer  went  up  for  the  Union, 
and  that  was  caught  uj)  at  a  distance  and  echoed  by  our 
soldiers,  and  joyously  re-echoed  by  the  surrounding 
hiUs. 

Many  a  brave  warrior  heard  that  glorious  shout  as  his 
senses  reeled  in  death,  and  his  spirit  went  forth  embalmed 
with  the  assurance  that  he  had  not  fiillen  in  vain. 

A  large  Rebel  gun  ever}-  few  seconds  Avould  pour  its 
iron  hail  against  our  struggling  heroes  ;  but  generally,  as 
the  sequel  proved,  the  firing  was  too  high.  Of  that  fact 
we  were  not  aware  at  the  time,  and  tlie  booming  gun 
caused  much  uneasiness  and  alarm. 

The  correspondent  of  the  St.  Louis  Republican  and 
myself  were  on  the  summit  of  a  hill  near  the  hostile 
breastworks,  indulging  in  a  little  amateur  belligerency 
with  Birge's  shai^Dshooters,  who  had  very  kindly  loaned 
us  two  of  their  Enfields.  Tlie}^  were  trying  in  vain  to 
pick  off  the  Rebel  gunner,  whom  we  could  not  see, 
though  we  could  determine,  by  the  puff  of  the  smoke  from 
the  vent,  about  where  he  stood. 

"  Are  you  a  good  shot?"  inquired  one  of  Birge's  men 
of  me.  "If  you  are,  here  is  as  good  a  rifle  as  ever  killed 
a  Rebel;  and  if  you'll  pepper  that  fellow  over  there  at 
that  gun,  I'll  give  you  any  thing  Tve  got." 


BATTLE   OF  DOXELSON.  71 

I  made  no  promises,  for  I  liave  very  little  skill  as  a 
marksman,  but  quietly  accepted  the  Enfield,  Avitli  tlie  air 
of  Leatlier  Stocking  ;  and,  waiting  until  the  gun  went  off 
again,  I  lired  at  the  very  moment  the  blue  smoke  puffed 
above  the  earthworks. 

For  some  reason  or  other,  the  gun  was  not  fired  for 
nearly  five  minutes. 

The  sharpshooter  looked  at  me  with  wonder  and  admi- 
ration, and  saying,  "I  think  you  fixed  him  that  time," 
received  back  the  rifle  I  handed  him  as  if  thei^  would  be 
no  more  use  for  it  in  the  future. 

''I  shouldn't  be  surprised,"  I  remarked  to  my  com- 
panion, and  Avalked  dignifiedly  away  while  my  laurels 
were  green. 

That  sharpshooter  will  believe  to  his  last  hour  I  killed 
that  Rebel  gunner. 

I  hope  as  he  believed. 

Soon  after  that  incident,  a  loud  report  was  heard,  and 
the  woods  reverberated  with  a  Union  cry  of  joy,  for  the 
soldiers  recognized  it  as  the  thunder  of  a  Yankee  gun, 
gotten  into  position  at  last,  and  believed  it  would  do 
much  to  decide  tlie  battle. 

Again  and  again  that  gun  sounded,  and  the  national 
banner  waved,  and  the  Rebels  were  driven  fi-om  their 
redoubt. 

The  Union  regiments  received  orders  to  hold  their 
position  during  the  night,  and  renew  the  strife  in  the 
morning. 

The  morning  came,  but  there  was  no  need  of  furtlier 
contest ;  for  in  tlie  moniing  the  enemy  surrendered,  and 
Donelson  was  ours. 


72  FOUR  YEARS  IN'  SECESSIA. 

Our  foes  sought  to  save  their  pride  and  conceal  their 
mortification  by  declaring  they  were  betrayed  by  Pillow 
and  Floyd ;  that  they  had  no  idea  of  surrendei-ing,  and 
would  not  have  surrendered  until  reduced  to  the  last 
extremity,  if  the  question  had  been  left  to  them. 

That  Avas  all  bosh,  however. 

No  such  course  would  have  been  adopted,  if  the  enemy 
had  believed  himself  capable  of  holding  out  longer,  or 
if  braggadocio  and  bluster  could  have  been  made  to 
answer  fortfetout  hearts  and  brave  deeds. 

Every  one  asked,  What  made  nearly  twenty  thousand 
able-bodied  soldiers  surrender,  with  plenty  of  provisions 
and  ammunition,  intrenched  as  they  were  behind  breast- 
works that  made  them  equal  to  any  odds  ? 

How  could  they,  after  all  their  insolence,  arrogance, 
and  assumption  of  superiorit}^,  jield  to  a  force  very  little 
more  than  their  own,  and  to  men  whose  courage  they 
questioned,  and  whose  manliness  they  affected  to 
despise  ? 

The  sole  answer  was,  and  is,  that  boastfulness  is  rarely 
the  parent  of  valor,  and  insolence  seldom  the  companion 
of  magnanimity. 

In  conversation  with  one  of  tlie  Rebel  Captains,  after 
the  surrender,  he  asked  me  how  our  boats  had  contrived 
to  escape  all  the  torpedoes  placed  in  the  Tennessee  and 
Cumberland  Rivers,  and  which,  he  had  thouglit,  would 
blow  our  fleet  to  atoms. 

When  told  the  torpedoes  were  usually  harmless,  and 
that  some  of  them  had  been  taken  up  and  exhibited  as 
specimens  of  ineffectual  malignity,  he  declared  it  was  very 
hard  to  kill  a  Yankee ;  that,  if  you  baited  a  hook  vnth. 


BATTLE   OF   DONELSON.  73 

the  Devil,  a  Yankee  would  steal  the  hook  without  the 
Devir  s  knowing  it. 

Several  of  tlie  Rebels  showed,  during  the  engagement, 
a  recklessness  of  life  that  proved  their  desperation. 

One  of  them  mounted  the  breastworks  in  full  view  of 

our  forces,    and   defii^d    tlie    ''d d   Yankees."       But 

hardly  had  the  defiance  passed  his  lips  before  he  fell 
pierced  by  a  score  of  bullets. 

Another  remained  outside  of  the  rifle-pits  after  all  his 
companions  had  retreated  behind  them,  and  fought  Avith 
his  sword  against  half  a  dozen  of  the  Unionists  who  had 
surrounded  him,  and  Avere  anxious  to  take  him  j)risoner. 

They  asked  him  several  times  to  surrender  ;  but  he 
declared  he  would  rather  die :  and  die  he  did,  on  the 
point  of  a  Union  bayonet ;  but  not  before  he  had  slain 
one,  and  wounded  three  of  his  adversaries. 

One  of  the  prisoners  afterward  gave  me  the  history  of 
that  desperate  Secessionist. 

He  had  inherited  a  large  fortune ;  married  a  wife  in 
Tennessee ;  squandered  his  means  in  riotous  living  and 
dissipation  ;  separated  from  his  spouse  ;  become  reckless ; 
joined  tlu?  army,  and  declared  his  intention  to  live  no 
longer  than  the  first  battle. 

He  redeemed  his  word,  and  closed  his  wild  career  a 
needless  martyr  to  an  unholy  cause. 

A  third  Secessionist,  a  private  in  a  Mississippi  com- 
pany, left  his  companions  in  amis,  and,  with  a  horrid 
imprecation,  rushed  into  the  midst  of  one  of  our  regi- 
ments, aiming  a  blow  with  his  musket  at  an  Indiana 
Captain,  who  shot  him  dead  witli  his  revolver  before 
the  desperado  could  inflict  any  injury. 


74  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Three  members  of  the  8th  Illinois  rushed  over  the  rifle- 
pits  after  the  enemy  had  retreated  into  them,  and  perished 
fighting  against  a  thousand  foes. 

On  Saturday,  a  young  soldier,  James  Hartley,  who  had 
lost  a  brother  the  previous  day,  swore  he  would  be 
revenged ;  and  in  one  of  the  sorties  by  the  Rebels,  he 
attacked  six  of  them  single-handed,  killed  three,  and 
then  lost  his  own  life. 

Corporal  Mooney,  an  Irishman,  seeing  that  the  staff  of 
one  of  the  regimental  flags  was  shot  away,  picked  up  the 
Stars  and  Stripes,  and,  wrapping  them  round  his  body, 
rushed  over  the  parapet,  and  crying,  "Come  on,  my  brave 
boys  !"  was  blown  to  pieces  by  a  shell. 

A  Lieutenant- Colonel  in  an  Iowa  regiment,  during  the 
fierce  contest  of  Saturday  afternoon,  had  nine  bullets  put 
through  his  coat,  and  yet  sustained  no  injury. 

Peter  Morton,  of  the  13th  Illinois,  had  the  case  of  his 
watch,  which  he  wore  in  his  upper  vest  pocket,  immedi- 
ately over  his  breast,  torn  away  by  a  canister-shot,  and 
the  clironometer  still  continued  to  keep  time. 

The  life  of  Reuben  Davis,  of  the  5th  Kentucky,  was 
saved  by  a  silver  half  dollar  in  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

He  had  borrowed  that  amount  from  a  companion  some 
days  before,  and  offered  to  return  it  before  going  into 
the  engagement ;  but  his  companion  told  him  to  keep  the 
coin,  as  he  might  stand  in  need  of  it  before  night. 

He  had  the  greatest  need  of  it.  A  rifle-ball  struck  the 
coin  in  the  centre,  and  destroyed  the  figure  of  Liberty  on 
its  face,  but  harmed  not  the  Kentuckian. 

Within  the  Fort  a  small  Secession  flag  was  planted ; 
and  twice  the  pole  supporting  it  was  shot  away. 


BATTLE   OF  DONELSON,  75 

Some  one  picked  it  up,  saying,  "That  is  a  bad  omen. 
If  it  is  brouglit  down  again,  we  will  be  defeated.'* 
Ilai'dly  had  he  spoken  before  a  shell  burst  above  his 
head,  and  a  fragment  shivered  the  staff,  and  crasned 
througli  the  speaker's  skull. 

On  Monday,  the  day  after  the  surrender,  I  talked  a 
great  deal  Avith  the  Rebel  officers  ;  asking  some  from 
South  Carolina  and  Mississippi  tlieir  opinion  about  the 
capacity  of  a  Southerner  to  whip  five  Northerners. 

''  It's  all  d d  nonsense,"  was  the  reply.    "Whoever 

says  so  is  a  d d  fool." 

"Your  newspapers  have  so  stated,  time  and  again,"  I 
remarked. 

"Probably  tliey  have.  If  the  editors  think  so,  lei 
them  try  it.  It  is  enough  £or  us  soldiers  to  whip  one 
Yankee  at  a  time.  When  we  get  done  with  him,  we 
tliink  we've  done  about  all  tliat  we  desire." 

Many  of  the  enemy  found  upon  the  battle-field,  after 
we  had  obtained  possession  of  a  part  of  the  intrench- 
ments  on  Saturday  afternoon,  were  horribly  wounded, 
mostly  by  our  Minie  rifles  and  Enfield  muskets,  and 
usually  in  the  face  or  on  the  head. 

Poor  fellows  lay  upon  the  ground  with  tlieir  eyes  and 
noses  carried  away  ;  their  brains  oozing  from  their  crania ; 
their  mouths  shot  into  horrible  disfiguration  ;  making  a 
hideous  spectacle  that  must  have  haunted  those  who  saw 
it  for  many  days. 

I  saw  an  old  gray-haired  man,  mortally  wounded, 
endeavoring  to  stop,  with  a  strip  of  his  coat,  the  life-tide 
flowing  from  the  bosom  of  his  son,  a  youth  of  twentj 
years. 


76  FOUIl   YEAKS   IN"   SECESSIA. 

The  l)oy  told  liis  father  it  was  useless ;  that  lie  could 
not  live  ;  aud  while  tlu?  devoted  parent  Avas  still  striving 
feebly  to  save  him  who  was  perhai3s  his  first-born,  a 
shudder  passed  over  the  frame  of  the  would-be  pre- 
server. 

His  head  fell  upon  the  bosom  of  the  youth,  and  his 
gray  hairs  were  bathed  in  death  "vvith  the  expuing  blood 
of  his  misguided  son.  ^ 

I  saw  the  twain  half  an  hour  after  ;  and  youth  and  age 
were  locked  lifeless  in  each  other's  arms. 

A  dark-haired  young  man,  of  apparently  twenty-two 
or  three  years,  I  found  leaning  against  a  tree,  his  breast 
pierced  by  a  bayonet.  He  said  he  lived  in  Alabama ; 
that  he  had  joined  the  Rebels  in  opposition  to  his 
parents'  ^vishes  ;  that  his  mother,  when  she  had  learned 
that  he  would  go  into  the  army,  had  given  him  her 
blessing,  a  Bible,  and  a  lock  of  her  hair. 

The  Bible  lay  half  opened  on  the  ground,  and  the 
hair,  a  dark  lock,  tinged  with  gray,  that  had  been  be- 
tween the  leaves,  was  in  his  hand. 

In  the  lock  of  liau-,  even  more  than  in  the  Volume, 
Religion  was  revealed  to  the  dying  young  man.  I  saw 
him  lift  the  tress  again  and  again  to  his  lips,  as  his  eyes 
looked  dimly  across  the  misty  sea  that  bounds  the  shores 
of  Life  and  Death,  as  if  he  saw  his  mother  reaching  out 
to  hira  with  the  arms  that  had  nursed  him  in  his  infancy  : 
to  die,  alas !  fighting  against  liis  country,  and  the  coun- 
sels of  her  whose  memory  lived  latest  in  his  departing 
soul. 

A  Secession  soldier  of  the  10th  (Irish)  Tennessee  regi- 
ment, I  believe,  was  lying  just  inside  of  the  fortifications. 


BATTLE   OF  DONELSUX.  77 

His  glazing  eyes  gave  assurance  that  life  svvls  embraced  in 
luiimtes.  He  held  a  rosary  and  crurifix  in  his  hand,  and 
his  moving  lips  "were  doubtless  oli'ering  a  jjrayer.  IIo 
liad  evidently  endeavored  to  kneel,  but  was  too  weak. 

One  of  our  soldiers  saw  and  hurried  to  him,  to  assist 
him  in  his  attitude  of  prayer  ;  and  while  engaged  in  that 
kind  office,  a  shot  from  a  Rebel  cannon  struck  and  killed 
them  both. 


t8  FOUR 'years  in   SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AFTER     THE     BATTLE. 

Extracts  from  my  Note-Book. — Sensations  of  a  Reasoning  Man  Under  Fire. — A 
Novel  in  Brief — A  Faithless  Woman  and  a  Sacrificed  Lover. — A  Juvenile 
Hero. — Difficulty  of  Dying  on  the  Field. — Ultra-professional  Correspondents. 
— Ludicrous  Incidents  of  their  Journalistic  Devotion. 

In  two  instances,  at  Donelson,  I  noticed  wounded  foes 
lying  near,  wlio  were  ojffering  water  to  each  other  from 
their  canteens.  So  humane  and  gentle  were  our  living  to 
the  wounded  and  dying  enemy,  that  one  would  have  sup- 
posed they  were  the  nearest  and  closest  friends. 

One  fierce  Rebel,  a  Mississippian,  refused  all  aid, 
though  badly  wounded,  and  endeavored  to  shoot  a  mem- 
ber of  one  of  the  Ohio  regiments,  who  had  approached 
to  render  him  assistance ;  which  so  outraged  the  good- 
hearted  soldier,  that  he  lifted  his  njusket  to  blow  out  his 
enemy's  brains. 

A  moment's  reflection  made  him  magnanimous,  how- 
ever, and  he  left  the  Mississippian  to  care  for  himself. 

The  many  instances  I  might  relate  of  daring,  suffering, 
and  heroism,  on  bofli  sides,  prove  how  mysteriously  what 
we  call  Good  and  Evil  is  commingled  in  Humanity ; 
that  even  through  the  dark  clouds  of  War  the  sun  of 
Justice  and  Mercy  streams  ;  that  on  the  most  barren 
heath  fair  flowers  are  breathing  out  their  sweetness  ever, 
though  all  unseen. 


AFTER  THE   BATTLE.  79 

Fov,'  ])orsoiis  but  have  some  curiosity  about  battle- 
fields, and  a  positive  wisli  to  kuow  liow  men  feel  under 
lire,  especially  before  custom  has  made  them  indiftci'ent. 
Most  of  those  at  Donelson  must  have  had  that  experience, 
as  the  liold  was  such  that  few  could  go  to  any  part  of  it 
without  incurring  more  or  less  risk. 

Hardly  any  one  could  see  the  Rebels  or  their  guns  ; 
and,  consequently,  the  first  intimation  of  their  presence 
was  the  falling  of  a  shell,  or  the  rattling  of  shot  or  balls 
in  his  immediate  vicinity. 

I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  any  courage,  moral  or 
physical ;  but  the  sensations  under  fire,  judging  from  my 
experience,  are  difierent  from  what  is  anticipated. 

A  reasoning  man,  with  a  love  of  adventure,  at  first 
feels  alarmed  ;  and  his  impulse  is  to  run  away  ;  and  if  he 
has  no  motive  to  stand,  he  probably  does  run.  But  at 
each  additional  exposure  he  grows  less  timid,  and  after 
hearing  canister  and  grape  about  his  ears  a  dozen  times, 
begins  to  think  he  is  not  destined  to  be  hurt. 

He  still  feels  rather  uneasy,  perhaps ;  but  the  danger 
acquires  a  sort  of  fascination ;  and,  though  he  does  not 
wish  to  be  hit,  he  likes  to  have  narrow  escapes,  and  so 
voluntarily  places  himself  in  a  position  where  he  can 
incur  more  risk. 

After  a  little  while,  he  begins  to  reason  the  matter ;  re- 
flects on  the  Doctrine  of  Probabilities,  and  how  much 
powder  and  lead  is  necessarily  wasted  before  any  man  is 
killed  or  wounded. 

Why  should  he  be,  he  thinks,  so  much  more  unlucky 
than  many  other  people  ?  So  reasoning,  he  soon  can  bear 
the  whizzing  of  bullets  with  a  tolerable  degree  of  equa- 


80  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

nimity,  tliougli  lio  involnntarily  dodges,  or  tries  to  dodge, 
the  cjinnon-Lalls  and  shells  that  go  howling  ahout  his 
immediate  neighborhood. 

In  the  afternoon,  he  is  quite  a  different  creature  from 
what  he  was  in  the  morning,  and  unwittingly  smiles  to 
see  a  man  betray  the  same  trepidation  which  he  himself 
exhibited  a  few  hours  before. 

The  more  he  is  exposed  to  fire,  the  better  he  can  bear 
it ;  and  the  timid  being  of  to-day  becomes  the  hero  of 
to-morrow. 

And  he  who  runs  from  danger  on  his  first  battle-field, 
ma}^  run  into  it  on  the  next,  and  court  the  hazard  he  once 
so  dreaded. 

Thus  courage,  as  it  is  styled,  is  little  more,  with  most 
men,  than  custom ;  and  they  soon  learn  to  despise  what 
lias  often  threatened  without  causing  them  harm. 

If  AYOunded,  they  learn  wounds  are  less  painful  to  bear 
than  they  had  imagined  ;  and  then  the  Doctrine  of  Pro- 
babilities teaches  them  once  more,  they  are  less  likely  to 
be  wounded  again. 

So  the  mental  process  goes  on,  until  the  nerves  by 
degrees  become  the  subjects  of  the  Will ;  and  he  only 
fears  who  has  not  the  will  to  be  brave. 

4f  *  *  * 

A  young  man  belonging  to  one  of  the  Tennessee  regi- 
ments—he held  the  rank  of  first  lieutenant  in  his  com- 
jiany — was  very  dangerously  wounded  at  Donelson,  in 
Saturday  morning's  strife,  and  was  not  expected  to  live 
when  I  left  Dover,  where  he  lay  in  much  pain. 

The  young  man  stated  he  was  a  native  of  Harrisburg, 
Pennsylvania,  and  had  resided  there  until  the  Autumn  of 


AFTEIi   TliK    J5ATTLE.  81 

lSi")9,  -wiicii  lio  went  to  Columhia,  T(^iinossee,  and  there 
engaged  in  tlie  practice  of  tlie  Lnv,  witli  considei-al)le 
success.  AVliile  in  tliat  State,  lie  In-came  acquainted 
witli,  and  enamored  of,  a  woman  of  culture  and  position 
—a  distant  relative  of  General  Pillow— and  w^as  soon 
engaged  to  mai-ry  her. 

The  love-stream  of  the  young  coui)le  flowed  smoothly 
enough  until  the  fall  of  Sumter,  and  the  secession  of 
Tennessee,  when  the  affianced  husband,  being  a  strong 
Unionist,  returned  home,  designing  to  wed  after  the 
troubles  were  over. 

The  betrothed  pair  corresponded  regularly  ;  but,  some 
weeks  after  her  lover  had  gone  to  Ilarrisburg,  the  girl, 
who  had  suddenly  grown  a  violent  Secessionist,  informed 
him  she  woijld  not  become  his  wife  unless  he  would 
enlist  in  the  Rebel  service,  and  fight  for  the  independence 
of  the  South. 

The  young  man  was  exceeding  loth  to  take  such  a  step, 
and  remonstrated  with  his  love  to  no  purpose.  At  last, 
in  the  blindness  of  his  attachment,  and  in  the  absorbing 
selfishness  of  passion,  he  informed  his  parents  of  his 
intention  to  win  his  mistress  on  the  tented  field. 

In  vain  they  endeavored  to  dissuade  him  from  his  reso- 
lution. He  returned  to  Tennessee,  raised  a  company, 
received  the  congratulations  of  his  traitorous  friends,  and 
the  copious  caresses  of  his  charming  tt^npter. 

In  December,  1861,  the  lieutenant  proceeded  to  Doncl- 
son,  with  his  company  ;  and,  a  few  days  before  the 
battle,  he  heard  his  betrothed  was  the  wife  of  another. 

His  heart  liad  never  been  in  the  cause,  though  in 
another's  keeping;  and,  stung  by  remorse,  and  crushed 


82  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

by  the  perfidy  of  liis  mistress,  lie  liad  no  desire  to  live 
4ny  longer  in  a  world  that  had  become  hateful  to  him. 

Unwilling  to  desert,  or  resign,  on  the  eve  of  battle,  lest 
lie  might  be  charg(^d  with  cowardice,  he  resolved — so  he 
said,  at  least — to  lose  the  existence  that  had  become  un- 
bearable to  him  ;  and,  in  the  tliickest  of  the  fight,  seek- 
ing death,  without  desiring  to  infiict  it.  he  received  a 
mortal  wound. 

The  misguided  and  betrayed  lover  must  soon  have 
ceased  to  think  of  her  who  had  so  cruelly  deceived  him  ; 
for,  twenty-four  hours  after  the  wound,  the  Lethean 
stream  of  Death  was  flowing  round  the  Eternity-bound 
island  of  his  soul. 

The  double  traitress,  no  doubt,  learned  all ;  for  her 
iover  dictated  a  letter  to  her  on  his  couch  of  pain. 

Could  she  have  been  happy,  even  in  the  rosy  hours  of 
her  early  marriage,  when  the  thought  of  the  dead  adorer, 
slain  by  her  hand,  darkened,  like  a  portentous  cloud,  the 
fair  horizon  of  her  life  ? 

Must  not  his  pale  corpse,   with  its  bleeding  wounds, 
have  glided  between  her  and  her  husband's  arms,  and 
banished  contentment  forever  from  the  profaned  sanctu- 
ary of  her  spirit? 
Pshaw,  that  is  sentiment ! 

She  was  a  woman  of  a  more  practical  kind.  Her  heart 
was  made  of  sterner  stuff.  She  could  laugh  and  mock,  no 
doubt,  though  her  sacrificed  lover  had  stood  beside  her  in 
Ms  winding-sheet,  asking  her  absolution  for  the  sins  she 
had  caused  him  to  commit.  Was  not  the  old  English 
poet  correct? — 

"  When  Woman  once  to  Evil  turns, 
All  Hell  within  her  bosom  burns  I" 


AlTEi:   TUE  IJATTLE.  83 

*  *  *  * 

A  mere  hoy,  of  about  fifteen  years,  from  Darke  County, 
Ohio,  being  in  Illinois,  had  enlisted  in  one  of  the  regi- 
ments raised  in  tlie  soutliern  i)art  of  tliat  State  ;  but,  as 
he  was  in  very  delicate  health,  his  father  was  extremely 
anxious  to  have  him  released  from  the  service,  though 
the  youthful  soldier  greatly  desired  to  remain  in  it. 

While  at  Forts  Henry  and  Donelson,  the  boy  was  very 
ill,  but  still  insisted  upon  performing  his  duty.  His 
father  arrived  at  Donelson  on  Friday,  the  14th  inst.,  in- 
tending, if  possible,  to  take  him  home. 

*  *  *  * 
While  looking  industriously  for  him  among  his  com- 
panions, he  learned,  to  his  surprise  and  horror,  that  the 
poor  boy,  after  fighting  gallantly  on  Thursday,  had  died 
from  exposure,  lying,  without  fire  or  shelter,  upon  the 

frozen  ground,  on  that  bitter  and  desolate  night. 

*  *  *       •  * 

A  lieutenant  of  a  company  in  one  of  the  Ohio  regi- 
ments, while  preparing  for  a  charge,  had  his  pipe  shot 
from  his  mouth.  He  laughed,  and  lighted  it  again  ;  and, 
soon  after,  its  fire  was  extinguished  by  a  Rebel  ritie-ball, 
which  killed  a  man  three  feet  from  him  ;  and,  while 
wondering  at  his  escape,  he  received  a  shot  through  his 
cap,  and  another  struck  his  scabbard. 

The  lieutenant  has  since  thought,  no  doubt,  he  was  not 
born  to  die  on  the  battle-field. 

The  proverb  that  lightning  does  not  strike  the  same 
tree  twice  must  be  truer  than  that  balls  do  not  design  to 
do  mischief  to  soldiers  more  than  once  during  the  same 
engagement. 


84  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

A  number  of  our  soldiers  were  "wounded  five,  or  six, 
and  even  seven  times,  at  Donelson,  none  of  the  wounds 
proving  sorious  ;  and  yet  the  variation  of  a  quarter  of 
an  incli  would  have  proved  fatal  in  many  of  the  in- 
stances. Truly — to  change  the  aphorism — in  the  midst 
of  death  we  are  in  life. 

Tlie  head  of  one  of  the  enemy — a  member  of  the  Ala- 
bama Rifies — was  shot  off,  the  second  day  of  the  fight,  by 
a  Parrott  rifle-gun — First  Missouri  Battery — at  a  distance 
of  nearly  two  miles,  while  he  was  peeping  above  the 
breastworks. 

A  lieutenant,  in  an  Illinois  regiment,  was  shot  with  a 
musket  in  the  left  cheek,  the  ball  passing  through  his 
mouth,  which  was  open  at  the  time,  and,  knocking  out 
three  false  teeth,  carried  two  of  them  into  the  thigh  of 
his  sergeant,  who  was  at  his  side  ;  making  a  painful,  but 
not  serious,  wound. 

*  *  *  * 

Curious  stories  were  told,  at  Donelson,  of  some  ultra- 
professional  journalists  on  the  field,  who  never  for  a 
moment  forgot  their  calling,  or  tlie  disagreeable  duties 
it  imposed.  They  never  moved  out  of  range  until  they 
had  completed  their  notes,  though  the  shot  and  shell  fell 
like  hail ;  and  conducted  their  business  as  calmly  as  if 
they  were  reporting  a  political  speech. 

One  of  the  Correspondents  is  said  to  have  locked 
General  S.  B.  Buckner  in  a  room  at  Dover,  and  kept  him 
there,  in  spite  of  threats,  until  lie  had  taken  a  pencil 
sketch  of  his  person. 

Another — so  rumor  says — declared  to  General  Bushrod 
K.    Johnson,  that   he  would  give  him  shameful  ante- 


AFTER   THE   I5ATTLE.  85 

cedents,  unless  he  furnished  materials  for  a  brief  bio- 
graphy. 

Jolinson  blustered,  at  first ;  but  when  the  newspapcr- 
*  scribbler  began  putting  down  and  reading,  in  a  loud 
voice:  "B.  K.  Johnson,  a  native  of  Massachusetts,  for- 
merly one  of  the  editors  of  Lloj-d  Garrison's  anti-slavery 
journal,  but  compelled  to  fly  to  Tennessee,  on  account  of 
having  been  detected  in  a  forgery  of  his  father  s  name," 
etc.,  Bushrod  became  a  suppliant,  and  gave  the  irrepres- 
sible fellow  the  main  events  of  his  life. 

The  representative  of  a  New  York  journal  is  stated  to 
have  run  up  to  a  wounded  officer  of  distinction,  who 
believed  himself  mortally  hurt,  and  begged  him  not  to 

die  yet,  for  the  sake  of  the ,  which  he  had  the 

honor  to  represent ;  remarking,  if  he  had  any  last  words 
to  utter,  tliat  they  should  appear  in  the  best  form,  in  the 
earliest  possible  issue  of  his  widely  circulated  and 
highly  influential  journal. 

The  officer  turned  away  his  head  in  abhorrence  and 
disgust,  and  some  of  his  friends  compelled  the  painfully 
persevering  correspondent  to  retire  ;  but  the  professor  of 
the  quill  insisted  he  could  make  a  better  speech  for  the 
wounded  soldier  than  he  could  make  for  himself,  and 
expressed  the  hope  that  he  would  not  give  any  member 
of  tile  Press  the  least  hint  of  his  dying  sentiments,  under 
any  circumstances  whatever. 

I  am  very  anxious  to  believe,  for  the  honor  of  journal- 
ism, such  stories  are  untrue  ;  but  I  fear  tln^y  have  some 
foundation,  as  there  are  men  in  our  profession,  avIio,  in 
the  discharge  of  their  duties,  forget  they  are  any  tiling 
but  machines,   and,   to  the  furtherance  of  their  duties, 


86  FOUR   YEARS   IN   SECESSI^L 

sacrifice  every  sentiment  of  liumanity  and  every  prompt- 
ing of  sensibility. 

Tliey  do  not  know  that  the  mistaken  journalist,  who 
loses  sight  of  what  belongs  to  a  gentleman,  may  earn 
success  in  his  vocation,  but  must  forever  despair  of  the 
respect  and  esteem  that  render  his  profession  not  only 
useful  but  honorable. 


OCCUPATION  OF  COLUMBUS.  87 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OCCUPATION   OF   COLUMBUS. 

The  Departure  for  the  Rebel  Strongliold. — Uncertainty  of  the  Situation. — Doubts 
and  Apprehensions. — Pleasant  Discovery. — Enthusiasm  on  Board  the  Flotilla. 
— Abortive  Defenses  of  the  Enemy. — Evidences  of  Excessive  Orthodoxy. — • 
Superstition  and  Swagger. — Pikes  and  Loug  Knives  in  Abundance. 

For  some  clays  before  the  Union  Flotilla  left  Cairo, 
there  were  reports  that  Columbus  had  been  evacuated  ; 
and  though  there  were  many  external  signs  to  corroborate 
the  impression,  no  one  knew  what  the  condition  of  affairs 
was  at  the  Rebel  stronghold. 

Commodore  Foote  determined,  on  the  4th  of  March, 
1862,  to  acquire  that  important  information  ;  and  before 
da-^Ti  every  thing  was  in  readiness,  and  the  gunboats  and 
transports  steamed  down  the  river,  their  officers  profusely 
speculating  whether  they  would  have  a  light  or  a  peace- 
ful occupation. 

The  Tribune  Correspondent  was  on  the  Illinois,  and, 
as  we  moved  down  the  Mississippi,  it  was  amusing  to 
hear  the  conversation  and  questions  in  the  pilot-house, 
where  another  Bohemian  and  Colonel  Buford  were  also 
standing,  all  with  glasses  in  their  hands. 

The  gunboats  were  just  in  advance  of  us,  steaming  very 
slowly  and  cautiously,  for  they  feared  the  Rebels,  as  had 
been  often  declared,  had  laid  a  trap  for  the  "barbarous 
Yankees." 


88  FOUR  YEAliS  IN  SECESSIA. 

We  were  in  direct  rauge,  below  tlie  island  opposite  tlie 
fortifications,  and  glasses  were  anxiously  sweeping  the 
Eastern  and  Western  horizon. 

We  thought  we  descried  large  guns  plainly,  and  some 
one  said,  "I  see  men  behind  the  breastworks.  The 
Rebels  are  about  to  fire.  Those  immense  guns  will  sink 
us  like  an  eggshell." 

That  cheering  intelligence  caused  silence  for  a  few 
seconds;  but  some  one  laughed,  and  said:  "Let  the 
Rebels  fire,  and  be  d d." 

They  did  not  tire  ;  but  I  am  quite  sure  they  will  be 
d d,  if  the  Calvinistic  theology  be  true. 

"Do  you  see  that  flag?"  was  inquired.  "Those  are 
Rebel  colors."  "I  see  more  cavalry."  "The  Rebels 
are  coming  down  the  bluff."  "The  battle  is  about  to 
begin." 

"Wasn't  that  a  cannon?"  "They  are  running — see 
them  on  the  hill."  "Are  those  their  tents  T'  "They 
are  burning  them — do  you  see  the  fire  ?" 

"  A  few  minutes,  and  we'll  know  all  about  it,  boys," 
observed  the  bluff  old  pilot.  ' '  Beauregard' s  a  cunning 
fox."  "He  is  there,  you  maybe  sure.  .  He  wouldn't 
desert  such  a  stronghold.  He' s  only  waiting  to  get  us 
under  his  guns,  and  open  on  us."  "I'll  bet  there  are 
thousands  of  the  enemy  behind  those  breastworks." 
"  Yes,  indeed,  you'll  see  them  soon  enough."  "I  want 
our  mortar-boats  to  begin.  They'll  give  the  rebels  the 
devil — won't  they  ?" 

Such  were  the  fragments  of  conversation  on  the  trans- 
port, as  she  proceeded  slowly  down  the  river  in  the  rear 
of  the  gunboats. 


OCCUPATION   OF   COLUMBUS.  89 

The  morning  was  rather  pleasant,  "but  hazy,  and  while 
we  were  straining  our  eyes  to  penetrate  the  attractive 
distance,  a  soft  breeze,  which  we  felt  bathing  our  laces 
with  early  Spring,  lifted  the  Hag  upon  the  Kentucky  bluffs, 
and  the  glorious  old  Stars  and  Stripes  shone  out  bright 
and  clear. 

Columbus  had  already  been  occupied  by  a  regiment  of 
our  cavalry  which  had  proceeded  there  by  land.  At  that 
moment  our  hats  were  off,  and  three  cheers  for  the  Union 
rang  out  across  the  silent  bosom  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  cry  was  caught  up  from  the  gunboats,  and  the 
distant  bluffs  echoed  the  joyous  shout. 

Our  bands  played  "Dixie" — that  detestable  air  which 
I  am  sorry  Secessia  has  not  been  allowed  to  monopolize 
— and  with  waving  hats  and  banners,  we  were  soon  pass- 
ing the  Rebel  fortifications,  whose  guns  had  been  dis- 
mounted— and  steaming  into  the  landing  of  the  famed' 
and  fearful  town. 

As  soon  as  the  distance  rendered  it  possible,  I  leaped 
on  shore,  and  struggled  hurriedly  up  the  lofty  bluff  on 
which  the  chief  works  of  the  enemy  were  located. 

For  five  or  six  hours  I  occupied  myself  in  walking  over 
the  enemy' s  works,  through  their  deserted  barracks  and 
the  town,  up  and  down  the  ravines,  over  the  fallen  tim- 
ber, climbing  the  bluffs,  stumbling  through  the  rayless 
magazines,  and  seeing,  in  a  word,  all  that  it  was  possible 
for  me  to  see. 

Two  heavy  iron  cables  were  thrown  across  the  Missis- 
sippi, and  secured  at  each  end  by  immense  anchors  ;  but 
both  had  been  broken. 

Any  quantity  of  torpedoes  had  been  sunk  in  the  river, 


90  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SECESSIA. 

but  thej  were  as  harmless  as  a  pretty  school-girl  who 
does  tlie  tragedy  at  a  literary  exhibition 

About  one  hundred  of  these  submarine  failures  were 
piled  up  on  the  banks,  with  accompanying  buoys  and' 
anchors,  and  they  looked  as  innocent  as  unrewarded 
virtue.  Tliey  must  have  been  rejected  members  of  the 
Peace  Society  ;  and  if  one  would  have  ti«Kl  a  white  cravat 
about  them,  they  would  have  passed  for  the  meekest  of 
clergymen. 

The  enemy  at  Columbus  must  have  been  extremely 
jocose.  I  found  a  number  of  Valentines  the  troops  had 
sent  each  other,  with  droll  letters,  showing  their  fondness 
for,  and  appreciation  of,  humor. 

We  found  a  number  of  stuffed  figures  of  President 
Lincoln,  General  McClellan,  Horace  Greeley,  and  others, 
represented  in  the  most  grotesque  form,  and  always  asso- 
'ciated  in  some  Avay  with  the  gallows  and  with  negroes. 
They  were  "gotten  up"  with  bottles  in  their  hands  in 
every  instance,  and  some  ultra- Abolition  sentiment  in- 
variably ascribed  to  them.  Some  of  their  jests  would 
have  been  sufficiently  apt  a  few  weeks  before,  but  then 
they  were  inappropriate  enough. 

In  the  deserted  camps  and  abandoned  barracks  we 
found  various  letters  and  documents,  all  breathing  the 
most  fervent  spirit  of  orthodoxy,  the  loftiest  appeals  to 
'Providence,  th(^  largest  faith  in  its  determination  to  over- 
throw the  wicked  Yankees,  who  would  not  let  the  saintly 
Rebels  alone  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  rights. 

Not  satisfied  with  the  most  ardent  irrational  appeals  to 
the  strongest  prejudices  and  worst  passions  of  their  blind 
followers,  the  Rebels  seek  to  impress  them  with  the 


OCCUPATION  OF  COLUMBUS.  91 

mockery  that  God  is  in  tlieir  ftivor  and  fighting  their  bat- 
tk's  for  them  ;  that  lie  sometimes  preserves,  as  Kentucky 
tried  to  do,  an  armed  neutrality,  to  humble  tlieir  pride, 
and  prove  how  little  they  can  effect  without  His  all- 
powerful  aid. 

What  a  jest  is  that !  What  a  gross  impiety  it  must 
seem  to  some ! 

The  idea  of  the  Almighty  arraying  Himself  on  the  side 
of  Treason,  Oppression,  Cruelty,  and  Slavery,  would  be 
monstrous,  if  it  were  not  ridiculous. 

Murderers  might  as  well  pray  to  Him  to  shield  them 
from  harm  during  the  progress  of  their  assassinations,  or 
profligates  ask  His  assistance  in  the  betrayal  of  an  inno-- 
cent  maid,  as  they  invoke  the  protection  of  Heaven,  ol^ 
claim  its  sympathy  with  tlieir  unholy  cause. 

Knowing  that  many,  perhaps  most,  men  have  a  strong 
religious  bias,  and  believe  in  special  providence,  tha 
demagogues  of  the  South  endeavor  to  profit  by  such 
mental  conditions. 

They  turn  to  Superstition  when  Reason  fails,  compre- 
hending that  early  teachings  and  inflammatoiy  appeals, 
are  more  potent  in  the  bosom  of  most  mortals  than  ac- 
quired knowledge  and  dispassionate  argument. 

If  we  were  to  believe  the  Southern  press,  we  would  be 
comi)elled  to  acknowledge  God  as  the  vicegerent  of  the 
"Confedf.^racy,"  and  the  chief,  though  invisible,  member 
of  its  traitorous  cabinet ;  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  devil 
as  sworn  friends,  who  had  formed  a  plan  to  destroy  the 
*'last  remnant  of  liberty  on  earth." 

If  God  is  with  the  Rebeb,  say  I,  let  us  accept  the  devil 

as  a  loyal  citizen,  with  his  tail,  horns,  hoofs,  and  his. 
7 


92  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

large  interest  in  the  brimstone  trade,  that  the  Calvinists 
have  assigned  to  his  sulphurous  majesty. 

*  *  *  * 

A  large  number  of  pikes,  and  of  those  murderous- 
looking  knives  with  -which  the  Rebels  were  to  strike  at 
.once  terror  and  death  to  the  hearts  of  the  North,  were 
found  at  Columbus,  and  seized  as  trophies. 

On  every  battle-field,  and  in  every  evacuated  position, 
these  knives  have  been  picked  up  by  our  victorious 
soldiers.  It  would  seem  the  enemy  manufactured  them 
not  for  use,  but  show  ;  intending  to  prove,  by  their  ex- 
posure, with  what  a  terrible  set  of  fellows  the  North 
had  to  deal. 

In  ancinit  days,  the  valor  of  a  nation  was  determined 
by  the  sliortness  of  its  weapons  ;  but  I  opine  the  nation 
did  something  more  than  throw  them  away  at  the  ap- 
proach of  real  danger. 

I  have  never  known  an  instance  in  which  the  Rebels 
used,  or  attempted  to  use,  those  knives,  so  savage  in 
semblance  ;  and  I  must  conclude  they  were  designed  to 
produce  a  moral  effect. 

The  pikes  they  have  never  employed,  either,  against 
their  foes ;  nor  will  they,  from  present  appearances,  for 
.some  time  to  come. 

They  do  not  seem  to  comprehend  their  proper  use  ; 
though,  if  we  had  believed  the  Southern  papers,  they 
were  to  be  among  the  chief  means  of  liberating  secession 
from  the  yoke  of  its  oppressors. 

They  proved  serviceable  to  our  men  in  climbing  the 
steep  bluffs  of  Columbus,  though  they  did  not  deem 
.them  adapted  to  the  sanguinary  pursuits  of  war. 


BATTLE  OF  PEA  RIDGE.  93 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

BATTLE   OF  PEA   KIDGE. 

The  Tliree  Days'  Fighting. — Desperate  Struggle  for  the  Possession  of  the  Train. 
— Sigel's  Heroism. — Tremendous  Contest  for  the  Guns. — Hand  to  Hand  Com- 
bats.— An  Epic  of  War. — Triumph  of  the  Republic. — Retreat  of  the  Rebels. 

The  Rebels,  before  tliey  began  the  now  memorable 
battle  of  Pea  Ridge,  in  Benton  County,  Arkansas,  on 
Thursday  morning,  March  6th,  1862,  were  entirely  con- 
fident of  success,  and  their  chief  concern  was  only  how 
to  destroy  or  capture  our  whole  force. 

General  Curtis  anticipated  an  attack  on  the  South,  and 
accordingly  had  the  train  placed  on  the  North  side, 
under  the  protection  of  General  Sigel,  with  a  body  of 
eight  hundred  men — the  principal  Union  encampment 
and  main  lines  being  to  the  eastward,  near  the  head 
and  on  both  sides  of  Sugar  Creek. 

Meantime,  the  Rebel  forces  were  moving  in  full 
strength  from  Bentonville,  whence  they  had  proceeded 
from  Cross  Hollows,  and  with  rapid  marches  were 
endeavoring  to  cross  the  creek,  and,  by  placing  them- 
selves on  the  North,  to  cut  off  any  attempt  on  our  part  to 
retreat. 

An  advance  of  about  two  thousand  cavalry  reached  the 
desired  position,  and  made  a  herce  onslaught  on  Sigel, 
hoping  to  take  possession  of  our.  large  and  valuable 
train. 


'94  FOUR  TEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

Sigel  proved  himself  the  right  man  in  the  right  place. 
He  gallantly  met  tlie  enemy,  and,  wliile  he  repelled  liis 
charge,  prevented  him  from  seizing  our  "wagons. 

The  hrave  and  accomplished  officer  seemed  ubiquitous. 
He  rode  rapidly  here  and  there,  giving  orders  and  ob- 
serving the  point  of  attack  and  the  situation  of  tlio 
enemy,  at  the  same  time  cheering  and  encouraging  his 
troops. 

Often  he  was  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  and  yet  he 
was  always  Tool,  calculating,  and  skillful,  exposing 
himself  as  a  common  soldier,  and  yet  preserving  the 
calm  judgment  of  a  commander-in-chief. 

Sigel' s  desire  was  to  keep  the  communication  open 
between  himself  and  the  main  camp,  while  the  enemy's 
design  was  to  cut  off  that  avenue  for  the  obtainment 
of  re-enforcements. 

The  Rebels  closed  round  him  with  tumultuous  shouts, 
and  believed  they  had  accomplished  their  purporse,  when 
Sigel  rushed  in  upon  them  with  his  brave  followers,  and 
compelled  them  to  give  way. 

Sigel  could  not  abandon  the  train ;  and  so  he  fought 
on,  and  (^xhorted  his  men  to  renewed  hope  and  courage 
by  his  example. 

For  two  hours  the  strife  went  on  with  great  ardor 
on  both  sides,  but  it  seemed  as  if  the  Unionists  would 
soon  be  compelled  to  yield. 

Tliere  seenu^d  no  hope  for  them  ;  that  they  must  be- 
come exhausted ;  and  doubtless  they  would  have  done 
so,   had  their  destiny  been  in    less  powerful  and  ex- 
perienced hands  than  Sigel' s. 
.   The  waves  of  opposition  rolled  around  Sigel' s  coursi- 


BATTLE   OF   PEA   RIDGE.  95 

gooiis  band  once  more ;  and  again  the  traitorous  shout 
went  up  to  the  sky,  and  swe])t  like  a  note  of  victory 
along  the  rising  hill. 

Many  a  stout  loyal  heart  doubtless  sank  when  that  cry 
was  heard  ;  but  Sigel  had  no  thought  of  failure. 

He  was  lighting  for  his  adopted  country  and  the 
salvation  of  his  little  band  ;  and,  ordering  three  com- 
panies of  his  men  to  charge  bayonets,  the  Rebel  cavalry 
were  dispersed,  and  the  way  was  open  once  more. 

Still  no  re-enforcements  came,  and  our  gallant  soldiers 
appeared  contending  for  a  forlorn  hope. 

About  the  trains  the  din  of  strife  rose  louder  than 
before,  and  tlie  rattle  of  musketry  and  the  boom  of  cannon 
awoke  the  surrounding  echoes. 

The  enemy  was  losing  ground.  He  rallied,  and  fell 
with  redoubled  force  on  our  heroic  band,  two  hundred 
of  whom  had  already  sealed  their  patriotism  with  their 
blood. 

The  combat  was  hand  to  hand.  Horsemen  were  dis- 
mounted and  struggling  with  the  infantry,  while  the 
oflBcerswere  sometimes  seen  defending  themselves  against 
the  advancing  bayonets  of  the  common  soldiers. 

A  superhuman  effort  on  the  part  of  the  enemy,  and  a 
third  thue  the  Unionists  were  surrounded. 

Firmer  and  firmer  Avere  the  Rebels  closing  round  the 
five  or  six  hundred  braves,  who  were  evidently  going  to 
the  wall. 

The  sun  of  Hope  seemed  sinking,  though  that  of  Nature 
was  shining  clear  from  out  the  quiet  sky. 

Sigel  saw  the  smile  of  Heaven  only,  and  would  not 
despond.      His  eye  flashed  and  his  form  expanded  as 


9G  FOUR  YEAPwS  IN  SECESSIA. 

tlie  shouts  of  the  enemy  rose  alcove  the  din  of  the 
struggle. 

Only  one  "way  -was  left. 

"Follow  rae  !"  thundered  Sigel,  and  his  proud  steed 
trampled  an  approaching  Rebel  under  his  iiery  feet. 

A  deep,  strong,  earnest  cry  from  the  Unionists,  and 
they  met  the  foe  with  the  rush  of  determination  and  the 
energy  of  despair. 

The  Secession  Ikie  could  not  endure  the  shock.  It 
recoiled,  was  thrown  into  confusion,  and  retired  from  a 
position  that  had  "been  deemed  as  secure  as  the  Alpine 
peaks.  And  Sigel  was  victorious,  with  the  sun  still 
beaming  clearly  out  of  the  quiet  sky. 

The  train  was  saved. 

The  first  day  was  won. 

The  prestige  of  success  was  established,  and  the  Future 
looked  blue  with  hope  as  the  violets  of  the  early  year. 

The  enemy,  during  the  night  and  early  the  following 
morning,  March  7th,  poured  in  from  the  Benton ville  road, 
and  gathered  in  heavy  force  to  our  rear  ;  sweeping  round 
to  the  right,  and  occupying  both  sides  of  the  Keetsville 
road — a  position  from  which  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  dislodge  him,  or  surrender  all  hope  of  success. 

Truly,  before  the  second  day's  engagement  began,  the 
prospect  was  very  dark.  Defeat  seemed  to  stare  us  in 
the  face,  aud  the  sole  thing  possible  appeared  a  struggle 
to  prevent  too  disastrous  a  discomfiture. 

The  way  to  Missouri  was  defended  by  thirty  thousand 
of  the  enemy,  and  we  had  little  more  than  one-third  the 
number  to  dispute  the  perilous  passage. 

On  the  South  were  the  Boston  Mountains.    To  the  East 


BATTLE   OF  PEA   RIDGE.  97 

or  "West  we  could  not  go.  Were  we  not  hemmed  in  by 
nature  and  tlie  enemy  ? 

Could  we  longer  resist  ?  Could  we  say  we  were  con- 
tending only  for  victory,  when  the  shadows  were  length- 
ening and  deepening  on  our  hearts  ? 

General  Carr  was  sent  by  General  Curtis  to  force  the 
enemy  from  his  position,  and  about  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning  the  battle  was  renewed  with  increased  ardor,  and 
soon  tlie  batteries  from  both  sides  were  repljdng  to  each 
other  with  death-dealing  voices. 

The  main  action  in  the  morning  was  to  the  right  of  our 
encampment,  and  for  seven  hours  the  field  was  hotly 
contested. 

General  Carr  made  a  spirited  and  heavy  charge  upon 
the  enemy  under  McCulloch  and  Price. 

The  musket  and  rifle  firing  was  very  sharp,  and  every 
few  seconds  the  boom  of  the  batteries  burst  across  the 
country,  and  the  iron  hail  swept  down  the  stream  of  life, 
and  filled  the  surging,  noisy  waves  with  spectral 
corpses. 

The  Rebels  reeled  as  we  went  against  them,  but  their 
column  did  not  break. 

The  charge  was  repeated. 

Still  the  foe  stood  firm,  opening  a  galling  fire  from  two 
batteries  whose  presence  had  not  before  been  known. 

Our  troops  were  thrown  into  confusion,  and  three  com- 
panies of  infantry  and  Colonel  Ellis's  cavalry  were 
ordered  to  silence  the  destructive  guns. 

Like  lightning  our  men  leaped  forth  prompt  to  the 
word,  and  raged  about  the  Rebel  batteries  as  ravenous 
wolves   around  a    sheep-fold.      Everywhere   the   strife 


98  FOUR   YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

roared  ;  everywhere  tlie  smoke  crept ;  everywhere  the 
ground  shook. 

The  sunbeams  glanced  off  from  the  swords  and  bay- 
onets, but  they  ceased  to  shine  for  many  eyes  on  that 
blood-stained  dily. 

Carr's  column  advanced  and  fell  back, 'and  advanced 
again  ;  and  beyond  tliem,  up  the  hill,  the.  cavahy  and 
infantry  were  struggling  to  capture  the  detested  guns. 

The  regiment  which  protected  the  batteries  met  them 
fairly  and  freely,  and  for  half  an  hour  the  two  combatants 
were  so  commingled  that  they  almost  failed  to  recognize 
one  another. 

"Our  men  have  the  batteries!"  was  announced,  and 
the  Unionists  made  the  welkin  ring  with  their  huzzas. 

Yes,  it  was  so  ! 

Through  the  blue  curling  vapors  our  men  could  be  seen 
dragging  the  guns  after  tliem. 

Ere  they  had  gone  a  hundred  yards,  the  Rebels  were 
behind  them  ;  struggling  like  Hercules  for  the  reposses- 
sion of  the  pieces. 

Blood  streamed  anew,  and  shouts,  and  groans,  and 
prayers,  and  curses  went  up  with  the  gigantic  foims  of 
smoke  into  the  upper  air. 

Approx^riate  incense  to  waft  the  elements  of  battle  to 
the  skies. 

No  noise  now.  All  is  silent,  as  when  men  are  holding 
their  breath  for  a  deadly  struggle. 

The  suspense  is  awful.     It  cannot  last. 

Do  you  not  hear  a  thousand  hearts  beat  across  the 
plain  ?  Anxiety  has  made  the  roar  of  battle  almost  inau- 
dible— so  keenly  is  the  sense  upon  the  rack. 


BATTLE   OF  TEA   RIDGE.  99 

Countless  throats  arc  roaring  witli  triumph. 

Brief  triumpli  I  The  batteries  are  lost.  Our  men  have 
been  overpowered  by  numbers.  They  retire,  and  blood 
marks  their  progress,  and  many  dead  are  abandoned. 

The  recaptured  guns  are  revenging  themselves.  Their 
shot  and  shell  are  plowing  up  the  ground,  and  tearing 
open  brave  bosoms,  and  making  history,  and  .peopling 
graves. 

The  batteries  are  sought  once  more.  "We  win  tliem 
back  with  blood.  AYe  are  hurrying  them  off.  The 
Rebels  stare  like  demons  out  of  malignant  eyes,  and 
curse  through  finn-set  teeth. 

Triumph  is  about  to  crown  our  efforts,  when  a  large 
force  of  the  enemy,  repulsed  by  General  Davis  from  that 
section  of  Pea  Ridge  known  as  Leetown,  throng  to  the 
rescue. 

A  dozen  combats  over  the  guns,  and  tlie  contest  is 
still  undecided,  when  the  darkness  gathers,  and  through 
the  night  the  enemy  is  seen  bearing  off  his  twice-cap- 
tured, twice-recaptured  guns. 

Nature  is  no  longer  an  impartial  witness. 

She  di'aws  the  curtain  ;  and  the  camp-fires  blaze  along 
the  roads,  and  liglit  up  the  trees. 

Man' s  Pandemonium  is  profaning  the  holy  Night. 

Midnight  comes,  and  the  scattered  w^ords  of  the 
sentinels  are  heard ;  and  the  Unionists  and  Rebels 
are  sleeping  on  their  arms ;  dreaming,  it  may  be,  of  the 
time  when  they  were  friends  and  brothers,  and  America 
had  not  become  one  vast  military  camp. 

The  stars,  too,  are  keeping  watch  on  the  battlements  of 
Heaven. 


100  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

They  challenge  no  one.  They  seem  to  say  to  all  the 
weary  and  worn,   "  Come  hither  !     Here  is  peace." 

Speak  they,  or  be  they  forever  silent,  there  are  many 
spirits  in  the  air  seeking  peace  that  is  not  of  Eartli. 

At  six  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  8th,  our  guns 
opened  on  the  enemy,  and  our  fire  was  retui'ned  from 
twenty  j)ieces.  • 

The  firing  did  little  harm.     The  enemy's  shot  passed' 
over  our  heads.     Our  cause  was  grooving  darker.     That 
day  must  win  or  lose  the  battle. 

As  yet,  the  fortunes  of  war  incline  to  neither  side.  We 
have  reason  to  be  alarmed  ;  but  hope  and  courage  are 
firm  counselors,  and  add  strength  to  weak  arms. 

General  Sigel  observes  new  positions  for  our  opera- 
tions. We  plant  six  batteries  at  different  points  com- 
manding their  principal  forces.  A  fire  of  ball  is  shatter- 
ing the  space  with  its  roar. 

TJie  enemy's  list  of  mortality  is  swelling.  He  does  not 
understand  our  great  advantages ;  he  turns  pale,  and 
hesitates  to  advance. 

ISTo  time  is  given  him  for  reflection  ;  he  is  in  the  midst 
of  his  soul's  perplexity,  while  judgment  tosses  in 
fevered  sleep. 

Our  entire  infantry  is  engaged.  The  Rebels  meet  our 
dreadful  volleys  of  musketry  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ; 
but  their  firing  slackens. 

Still  our  batteries  are  forcing  the  verdict  of  the  out- 
raged nation  into  their  startled  souls. 

The  cannon  answers  the  musketry ;  the  musketry 
replies  to  the  cannon. 

Every  inch  of   ground  appears    alive    with    troops ; 


BATTLE   OF   TEA   RIDGE.  101 

every  twig  and  dry  leaf  seems  ablaze.  The  balls  are 
falling  like  the  large  drops  of  a  summer  shower.  The 
Pentecost  of  war  is  descending. 

The  Rebels  can  endure  no  longer  the  sheet  of  flame, 
out  of  which  go  Death  and  Pain  in  a  thousand  fomis. 

They  have  lost  their  faith  in  their  bad  cause  and  them- 
selves. They  are  panic-stricken.  They  fly,  and  a  roar 
of  victory  follows  them,  as  the  waves  of  the  river  the 
lean  and  hungry  shore. 

They  turn  not  back.  Two  of  their  Generals  have 
received  their  mortal  wounds,  and  the  word  is  :  "  Save 
himself  who  can." 

The  Unionists  have  beaten  them,  and  their  star  has  set 
over  the  verdureless  ridge  of  that  hard-fought  field. 

The  birds  twitter  overhead.  The  sun  shines  warmer 
and  clearer. 

The  atmosphere  of  blood  is  purified  by  the  feeling  that 
it  was  shed  in  a  sacred  cause. 

Tlie  Spring  greets  the  victors,  and  kisses  their  burning 
broAVS  with  the  same  pure  lips  that  call  forth  the  early 
flowers. 

Nature  rejoices  over  the  triumph  of  principle ;  for 
Nature  is  the  Order  and  the  Law. 

The  Unionists  pursue  the  broken  columns  ;  and  the 
breezes  come  wafting  the  victorious  shouts  ;  and  the  in- 
cense of  the  youthful  March,  revealing  that  aU  is  well, 
and  that  the  Future  is  secure. 

*  *  *  * 

Concerning  the  death  of  Generals  McCulloch  and  Mc- 
intosh, there  seems  to  be  but  one  opinion.  Both  of  them 
were  mortally  wounded  on  Friday,  during  the  heavy 


103  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

fighting  by  General  Jeff.  C.  Davis  against  the  center 
column  of  the  enemy.  It  will  be  remembered  the  Rebels 
gave  way,  and  the  two  Southern  cliieftains  made  the 
most  determined  efforts  to  rally  tli«*m  in  vain. 

McCuUoch  was  struck  with  a  Minie  rifle-ball  in  the 
left  breast — as  I  am  assured  by  one  who  says  he  saw  him 
fall,  and  after  he  was  taken  from  the  ground — while 
waving  his  sword  and  encouraging  his  men  to  stand  firm. 
He  died  of  his  wounds  about  ekn'en  o'clock  the  same 
niglit ;  though  he  insisted  that  he  would  recover,  repeat- 
edly saying  with  great  oaths  that  he  was  not  born  to  be 
lulled  by  a  Yankee. 

A  few  minutes  before  he  expired,  his  physician  assured 
him  he  had  but  a  very  brief  time  to  live.  At  this  Ben. 
looked  up  incredulously,  and  saying,  "  Oh,  Hell !"  turned 
away  his  head,  and  never  spoke  after. 

The  Southern  papers  no  doubt  have  put  some  very  fine 
sentiment  into  his  mouth  in  his  closing  moments  ;  but  the 
last  words  I  have  mentioned  are  declared  by  a  prisoner 
to  be  correct.  They  are  not  yery  elegant  nor  very 
dramatic,  but  quite  expressive,  and,  in  McCuUocli's  case, 
decidedly  appropriate. 

It  is  reported  that  Mcintosh  was  struck  near  the  right 
hip  with  a  grapeshot,  while  giving  an  order  to  one  of  his 
aids,  and  hurled  from  his  horse. 

The  wound  was  a  ghastly  one,  and  though  it  must  have 
been  very  painful,  Mcintosh  uttered  no  groan,  but  calmly 
gave  dli'ections  for  his  treatment.  A  few  minutes  after,  he 
fell  into  a  comatose  state,  from  which  he  never  recovered 
— passing  through  Death's  dark  })ortal  while  his  attend- 
ants supposed  he  still  lay  beside  the  golden  gates  of  Sleep. 


PROSE  AND  POESY   OF  WAR.  103 


CHAPTER  XV. 

i 

PROSE   AXD   POESY   OF  WAR. 

Facts  and  Fancies  from  Pea  Ridge. — The  Preservative?  Power  of  Tobacco. — A 
Song-Book  doing  the  Work  of  aBible. — Mysterious  Instance  of  Syuipa;liy. — 
Another  Fabian  dei  Krandii. — Painful  Fate  of  a  Union  Lieutenant. — A  Reck- 
less  Indianian. — A  Magnanimovis  Rebel. — A  Gallant  Iowa  Colonel. 

A  NUMBER  of  singular  and  interesting  incidents  oc- 
curred on  the  field  of  Pea  Ridge,  some  of  wliicli  are 
worth  relating,  even  at  this  late  day. 

A  private  of  the  Twelfth  Missouri  was  advancing 
toward  the  head  of  the  Hollows,  on  Saturday,  with  his 
regiment,  under  a  heavy  fire  from  the  enemy  stationed  on 
a  hill  above,  when  he  was  struck  by  a  musket-ball  near 
the  heart,  and  thrown  heavily  to  the  earth. 

The  poor  fellow  thought  no  doubt  his  last  moment  had 
come  ;  but  after  lying  for  some  time  on  the  ground,  and 
feeling  no  pain,  he  thought  he  would  see,  if  possible, 
where  he  was  hit. 

He  rose,  and  ojoened  his  vest,  and'  discovered  a  bullet 
half  imbedded  in  a  large,  thick,  moist  layer  of  toT)acco 
which  he  had  stolen  tlui  day  before,  and  placed  under 
liis  garment  for  concealment. 

The  moist  condition  of  the  tobacco  had  prevented  the 
leaden  messenger  from  fulfilling  its  fatal  mission. 

The  tobacco  was  all  that  had  interfered  between  him 
and  Heaven. 


104  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

.    Had  he  cause  to  lament  or  rejoice  ? 

Who  knows  ? 

What  philosopher  can  determine  whether  it  be  better  to 
live  or  die  ? 

The  soldier,  not  being  a  philosopher,  rejoiced. 

Most  men  would  have  done  likewise  ;  for  not  many  of 
us  mortals  have  time  to  die  ;  and  in  America  few  can 
afford  it,  though  Ave  indulge  in  the  luxury  at  a  most 
ruinous  rate. 

Let  no  one  say  hereafter  there  is  no  virtue  in  stealing. 

There  the  act  preserved  a  brave  fellow's  life  to  his 
country. 

For  the  sake  of  the  time-honored  tradition  and  all  Sun- 
day Schools,  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  have  heard  of  no  instance 
in  which  a  life  was  saved  by  a  Bible  ;  and  I  am  bound  to 
believe  the  fact  is  owing  to  the  great  scarcity  of  the  sacred 
volume  in  the  army,  rather  than  to  any  want  of  preserv- 
ing power  in  the  Holy  Book  itself. 

*  *  *  * 

Of  a  secular  song-book,  rather  ribald  in  character,  I 
fear,  I  can  relate  a  different  story. 

One  of  the  Thirty- Sixth  Illinois  troops  carried  a  volume 
of  the  sort  in  his  cap,  and  a  small  rifle-ball  passed  through 
the  cloth  and  stunned  him.  He  afterward  found  the 
bullet  had  gone  through  one  of  the  corners  of  the  book, 
and  Avhen  he  removed  it,  the  metallic  fate  fell  from  the 
leaves. 

I  can  only  account  for  the  phenomenon  by  supposing 
that  the  verses  of  the  songs  were  so  execrable,  that  the 
ball,  like  any  reader  of  good  taste,  could  not,  by  any  pos- 
sibility, get  more  than  half  way  through  the  contents. 


PROSE  AND  POESY  OF  WAR.  105 

Can  it  be  said  liereafter  of  the  Illinois  volunteer  that 
his  life  -was  not  worth  a  song  ? 

*  *  *  * 

The  subtle  and  mysterious  power  of  sympathy,  senti- 
mental metaphysicians  have  sought  fruitlessly  to  unravel, 
and  Dumas,  in  the  "Corsican  Brothers,"  has  jDicturedthe 
phenomena  in  its  fullness. 

A  very  strange  example  of  the  influence  of  sympathy 
is  reported  to  have  occurred  during  the  battle  on  Friday. 

Hiram  P.  Lord,  of  the  Twenty-fifth  Missouri,  Colonel 
Phelps,  while  charging  up  a  ravine,  fell  as  if  dead,  and 
his  companions  ran  to  him  and  asked  if  he  was  hurt. 

He  did  not  answer,  for  he  had  swooned. 

On  reviving,  he  said  he  must  have  been  struck  by  a 
ball,  for  he  felt  a  pain  in  his  left  side,  and  had  distinctly 
experienced  the  stunning  sensation  that  results  from  a 
gun-shot  wound. 

His  person  was  examined,  and  no  mark  or  indication 
of  injury  was  perceptible. 

He  could  not  comprehend  the  mystery,  but  soon  after 
resumed  the  fight,  and  forgot  the  sensation  until  he  had 
returned  to  the  camp,  when  he  learned,  to  his  surprise  and 
sorrow,  that  his  twin  brother  George  was  among  the  dead. 

George  had  been  in  another  part  of  the  field,  and  had 
been  shot  in  the  same  part  of  the  body,  and  at  the  same 
time,  that  Hiram  had  believed  himself  mortally  wounded. 

The  sympathy  between  the  two  brothers  liad  ever  been 
complete,  and  the  illness  of  one  was  usually  accompanied 
by  tlie  sickness  of  the  other. 

Strange,  if  true,  say  many  ;  but  the  stranger,  the  truer, 
declare  the  students  of  Nature. 


106  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SECESSIA. 

A  melancholy  incident  occurred  to  a  lieutenant  (whose 
name  I  was  unable  to  learn)  in  one  of  the  Iowa  companies, 
that  I  cannot  forbear  mentioniiig. 

He  had  been  shot  in  the  leg,  and  liad  fallen.  He  rose, 
and  supporting  himself  upon  a  stump,  urged  his  com- 
pany, whose  captixin  had  been  killed,  to  push  on  in  the 
then  important  crisis  toward  the  re-enforcement  of  Gen- 
eral Carr. 

While  the  lieutenant  was  waving  his  sword,  an  artil- 
lery wagon  was  driven  madly  along  the  road,  by  the 
side  of  which  he  was  standing.  The  wheel  struck  him, 
threw  him  to  the  ground,  and  the  heavy  carriage  passed 
over  his  neck,  causing  his  instant  death. 

Poor  fellow  !  I  saw  rude  men  weep  over  his  corpse, 
and  they  proved  themselves  braver  and  truer  for  their 
tears. 

*  *  *  * 

A  private  in  the  Eighteenth  Indiana  had  been  left 
behind  for  some  reason,  Avhen  his  regiment  was  ordered 
to  the  upper  part  of  the  Ridge.  Before  it  reached  there, 
it  became  engaged  with  the  Rebels,  and  was  cut  off. 

The  Indianian  resolved  to  join  his  companions  in  arms, 
though  persuaded  not  to  do  so,  as  it  was  madness  to 
make  the  attt^mpt. 

He  heeded  not  counsel,  but  hurried  forward,  and  was 
last  seen  contending  with  a  score  of  foes. 

His  fate  is  unknown,  but  he  must  have  perished. 

*  *  *  * 

Where  there  was  so  much  valor,  there  were  some 
individual  instances  of  its  opposite,  but  very,  very 
few  ;  for  timidity  is  a  quality  little  known  to  American 


TROSE  AND  POESY  OF  WAR.  107 

soldicTs,  figliting  iu  tlie  cause  of  freedom,  and  tlie  Repub- 
lic they  have  sworn  to  protect. 

A  soldier,  whose  nerves,  poor  fellow,  were  weaker 
than  his  -will,  climbed  into  a  tree  during  the  severe 
light  of  Friday  ;  and  while  there  a  round  shot  acci- 
dentally struck  him,  and  hurled  him,  a  bloody  and 
irrecognizable  mass,  to  the  ground. 

Had  the  soldier  remained  where  his  duty  ordered,  he 
would  probably  have  been  living  still.  The  poet  sang 
truly  :— 

"  Tlie  coward  often  finds  the  death  lie  shuns, 
In  that  his  drunken  fear  his  sober  judgment  clouds." 

*  *        .  *  * 

Even  Secession  cannot  crush  the  noble  instincts  of  the 
heart.  Even  a  Rebel  often  has  the  generous  qualities  of 
Nature,  and  the  lofty  instincts  of  a  gentleman. 

A  Colonel  of  one  of  the  Louisiana  regiments  saw  a 
poor  private,  a  Unionist,  lying  wounded  alone  by  the 
roadside,  and  begging  for  a  drink. 

The  Colonel  dismounted,  and,  taldng  the  soldier's 
canteen,  went  to  the  creek  and  filled  it,  gave  him  a  drink, 
and  placed  him  in  an  easier  position  ;  and  all  that  Avhile 
our  bullets  were  flying  thick  in  his  immediate  vicinity. 

I  am  very  sorry  I  do  not  know  the  gallant  Colonel's 
name.  He  never  did  a  nobler  act  on  the  battle-field. 
He  has  some  reason  to  boast  of  chivalry,  though  I 
doubt  if  he  does  so. 

If  the  South  comprehended  chivalry  as  he  compre- 
hends it,  their  assumption  of  that  high  attribute  would 

not  render  it  a  subject  of  jest  and  an  object  of  scorn. 

*  *  *  * 
8 


108  FOUR   YEARS   IN"   SECESSIA. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Ilerron  of  the  Ninth  Iowa,  now 
Major- General,  was  wounded  in  the  battle  and  taken 
prisoner,  though  he  lost  his  liberty  through  no  fault 
of  his,  as  he  seemed  determined  to  die  rather  than 
fall  into  Rebel  hands.  He  was  surrounded  by  ten  or 
twelve  of  the  enemy,  and  liis  surrender  demanded  in 
vain. 

He  killed  one  and  wounded  three  of  the  Rebels,  and 
was  maldng  every  resistance  with  his  sword,  when  his 
arms  were  seized,  and  his  opposition  rendered  impossi- 
ble. He  would  hdve  been  slain  most  assuredly,  had 
not  a  Southern  major  saved  his  life,  and  shot  an  Indian 
dead  who  was  trying  to  butches  him  after  his  arms  were 
bound  with  a  handkerchief. 


INDIAN  ATROCITIES.  109 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

INDIAN   ATROCITIES. 

Aboriginal  Outrages  and  Barbarities  at  Pea  Ridge. — Minds  of  the  Savages  poi- 
soned by  the  Rebels. — Whisky  and  Gunpowder  Stimulant. — The  Indians  Scalp 
*   Friend  and  Foe  Alike. — Slaughter  of  the  Red  Men  by  their  own  Allies. 

The  tliree  tliousand  Cherokee,  Choctaw,  Creek,  and 
Seminole  Indians,  under  Colonel  Albert  Pike,  a  renegade 
son  of  Connecticut,  committed  the  greatest  atrocities  on 
the  field  of  Pea  Ridge  ;  not  only  plundering  and  maim- 
ing the  dead,  but  actually  murdering  and  scalping  the 
wounded  as  they  lay  helpless  and  suffering  on  the 
ground. 

More  than  one  hundred  and  twenty  of  our  brave  men 
were  thus  barbarously  treated  by  the  savage  foe,  who 
had  been  wrought  to  a  pitch  of  frenzy  by  the  Rebels, 
through  passionate  appeals,  and  declarations  that  the 
''Yankees"  designed  to  enslave  them,  and  force  them, 
with  chains  and  whips,  to  do  the  vilest  drudgery  in 
their  aristocratic  homes  in  the  North. 

Not  only  did  the  enemy  thus  poison  their  minds,  but 
every  day,  before  the  savages  went  into  action,  it  is 
reported,  they  received  large  potations  of  whiskey  mixed 
with  gunpowder,  which  rendered  the  naturally  fierce 
sons  of  the  forest  perfect  demons. 

Under  such  extraordinary  stimulant,  they  forgot  their 
usual  caution,  and,  exposing  themselves  after  the  Ameri- 
can fashion,  were  killed  in  great  numbers. 


110  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

Still,  they  were  very  formidable,  and  often  attacked 
the  Unionists  in  the  rear,  as  they  were  passing  some 
"bend  in  the  road  or  piece  of  wooded  land,  and  did 
much  execution. 

They  yelled,  and  danced,  and  "brandished  their  knives, 
and  acted  like  madmen ;  but  when  they  grew  partially 
sober,  became  more  prudent,  and  fought  after  their 
time-honored  fashion,  from  behind  trees  and  fallen 
timber. 

AVhen  our  troops  discovered  on  the  second  day  that 
the  Indians  were  using  the  scalping-knife,  their  rage 
knew  no  bounds,  and  they  made  sad  havoc  in  the  ranks 
of  the  red  devils,  slaying  them  without  mercy  whenever 
and  wherever  they  could  reach  them. 

In  one  instance,  the  Second  Iowa  Battery,  which  had 
four  of  its  members  scalped,  obtained  the  range  of  a 
body  of  four  or  five  hundred  of  the  savages,  and  fired 
several  charges  of  cannister  and  shell  upon  them  in 
rapid  succession,  at  a  distance  of  not  more  than  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile. 

The  effect  upon  the  aborigines  was  terrible.  Tliey 
were  cut  down  like  grass,  and  the  dusky  demons  who 
were  unhurt  ran  howling  from  the  field,  and  could  not  be 
rallied  again  on  tliat  day  (Friday),  though  Colonel 
Albert  Pike,  it  is  said,  shot  several  with  his  own  hand, 
and  bawled  at  them  until  he  was  hoarse. 

Some  ten  or  twelve  of  the  chiefs  were  killed,  whose 
names  I  can  not  undertake  to  give. 

One  of  them,  a  Seminole,  was  very  famous  as  a  warrior 
in  his  tribe,  and,  though  over  fifty  years  of  age,  was 
athletic  and  daring  to  an  extraordinary  degree. 


INDIAN   ATROCITIES.  HI 

He  is  said  to  have  fouglit  "witli  tlie  celebrated  Red 
Jacket  ill  Florida,  during  tlie  Seminole  war,  and  bore 
upon  his  person  no  less  than  twenty  wounds. 

It  is  said  the  Indians,  in  the  engagement  of  Friday, 
became  so  excited  by  the  alcohol  they  had  drank  and 
the  scenes  they  witnessed,  that  they  turned  their  weapons 
upon  their  own  allies,  and  butchered  and  scalped  the 
Rebels  and  Unionists  with  the  most  chai-ming  indif- 
ference. 

An  instance  of  that  was  given  by  one  of  our  prisoners, 
a  member  of  one  of  the  companies  that  suffered  from 
what  the  Southerners  believed  to  be  the  treachery  of  the 
savages. 

Four  companies  of  Arkansas  infantry,  belonging  to  Ben 
McCuUoch's  division,  were  marching  up  one  of  the  ridges 
north  of  Sugar  Creek,  on  Saturday,  to  strengthen  ?the 
enemy,  who  was  hardly  pressed  by  General  Sigel. 

The  Arkansans  had  come  in  sight  of  about  three  hun- 
dred Creeks  and  Choctaws,  who  stood  on  the  brow  of  an 
adjacent  hill,  and  were  within  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  }'ards  of  the  savages,  Avhen  the  latter  opened  fire 
on  them. 

The  Rebel  Major  who  commanded  the  battalion  cried 
out  to  them,  that  they  were  killing  their  friends  ;  but  the 
Indians  did  not  heed  what  he  said,  and  again  discharged 
their  pieces. 

"The  d d  rascals  have  turned  traitors,"  cried  the 

Major.  "Upon  them,  Arkansans,  and  give  them  no 
quarter." 

The  Southerners  needed  no  second  order. 

They  attacked  them  with  great  energy,  and  for  nearly 


112  FOUR   YEARS   IN  SECESSIA. 

an  hour  a  desperate  battle  was  waged  on  the  Ridge  ;  the 
Indians  fighting  with  blind  fuiy,  and  scalping  all  who 
fell  into  their  hands,  whether  living,  wounded,  or  dead. 

That  was  described  as  one  of  the  severest  actions  of 
the  entire  battle,  and  the  Indians,  who  were  finally 
routed,  are  said  to  have  lost  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
in  killed  and  wounded. 


BENIGHTED  AKKANSAS.  113 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

BENIGHTED  ARKANSAS. 

Semi-Barbarism  of  the  People. — Benton  County  as  an  Example. — Extent  of  the 
Conscription. — Modern  Harpies  in  the  Shape  of  Women. — The  Loyal  Sentiment 
of  the  State. — Chivalrous  Mode  of  its  Suppression. 

The  semi-barbarous  condition  of  Arkansas  lias  become 
proverbial  in  tliis  country  ;  and  3-et  no  one  who  lias  not 
traveled  in  the  State  can  have  any  just  idea  of  the  igno- 
rance and  immorality  that  prevail  there. 

If  a  foreigner  were  set  down  in  that  Patagonia  of  places, 
and  told  that  it  was  one  of  the  component  parts  of  the 
Great  Republic,  famous  for  its  school-houses,  railways, 
and  newspapers,  he  would  not  believe  a  story  so  appar- 
ently self-contradictory. 

In  Benton  County,  in  which  Pea  Ridge  was  fought,  one 
sees  very  few  indications  of  civilization,  and  it  would 
seem  an  anomaly  if  loyalty  ever  could  have  flourished 
on  such  barren  soil. 

The  population  was  not  then,  and  is  not  now,  over 
eighteen  hundred,  though  it  once  boast(*d  of  four  thou- 
sand. The  dwellings  were  usually  miles  apart,  and  made 
of  logs  and  mud,  presenting  a  most  cheerless  and  squalid 
appearance.  No  one  was  at  home  save  women  and  chil- 
dren, and  the  old  men,  and  very  few  of  them  ;  even 
those  of  sixty  years,  who  were  not  diseased,  having  been 
impressed  into  the  Rebel  army. 


114  FOUR   YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

Tlie  women  were  only  siicli  in  namci ;  their  sex,  in  their 
absence  of  physiological  demonstration,  requiring  to  be 
taken  on  faith. 

Tall,  meagre,  sallow,  with  hard  features  and  large 
bones,  they  would  have  appeared  masculine  if  they  had 
not  been  too  attenuated  to  suggest  the  possibility  of 
liealtli  or  strength. 

They  drank  whisky  and  smoked  as  freel}^  as  men-; 
often  chewed  tobacco,  and  went  about  swearing  in  dis- 
cordant tones,  and  expectorating  skillfully,  and  were  as 
hideous  as  any  Tophetian  trollops  that  the  most  de- 
praved mind  could  imagine. 

Very  few  of  the  common  people — and  Heaven  knows 
they  were  common  enough — could  read  or  write ;  and  it 
was  not  unusual  to  find  but  one  or  two  in  a  township  so 
blessed  beyond  their  kind. 

Ignorance  and  crime  were  inseparable  companions,  and 
it  was  no  wonder  vice  there  assumed  many  of  its  lowest 
and  most  disgusting  forms. 

The  life  led  was  one  of  brutalized  sense  and  dissipa- 
tion. Practical  amalgamation,  gambling,  and  fighting  were 
the  end  and  aim  of  Arkansas  existence.  Not  many  of 
the  peoj^le  had  been  out  of  the  State — just  think  of  a 
being  that  had  no  idea  beyond  or  above  that  Boeotia — and 
they  lived,  if  I  may  employ  so  inappropriate  a  verb,  and 
died  there  unpenetrated  by  a  ray  of  Beauty ;  unlifted  by 
a  hope  of  Advancement ;  undeveloped  by  a  thought  of 
Change. 

Among  some  of  the  fanners  in  that  county  were  men 
of  considerable  intelligence,  but  they  were  generally 
from  other  States. 


BENIGRTED   ARKANSAS.  115 

The  true  Arkansan  Iviiows  notliing,  and  learns  nothing. 
He  n>gards  education  in  every  form  as  a  Yankee  inven- 
tion that  has  a  tendency  to  interfere  with  the  institution 
of  slavery,  which  many  of  the  poor  whites  adore,  because 
tliey  oAvn  no  negroes. 

With  several  of  the  most  intelligent  people  in  Benton 
County,  and  with  some  of  the  prisoners,  I  conversed  on 
the  subject  of  the  Union  sentiment  in  Arkansas ;  and 
they  said  the  people,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  would  never 
have  gone  with  the  "Confederacy,"  if  they  had  "been 
allowed  to  deteiTuine  the  question  for  themselves. 

Throughout  the  entire  State  men  went  as  emissaries  of 
Secession,  and  told  the  people  they  must  go  out  of  the 
Union  if  they  did  not  wish  to  be  deprived  of  their 
slaves  and  ruled  by  the  "Yankees,"  who  would  compel 
them  to  perform  all  menial  offices. 

Their  property,  their  wives,  their  children  would  be 
taken  from  them ;  they  wonld  exchange  position  with 
their  negroes,  and  the  latter  be  made  their  masters. 

Those  arguments  even  the  Arkansans  could  compre- 
hend,, and,  ih  a  few  weeks  after  the  diffusion  of  such 
nefarious  sentiments,  the  State  was  thrown  into  a  terrible 
excitement. 

A  reaction  occurred.  A  few  thinking  Union  men 
enlightened  the  half-crazed  community,  and  told  them 
they  were  deceived  ;  that  Secession  would  ruin  them ; 
tliat  tlieir  only  safety  was  in  the  Union,  and  that  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  had  no  disposition  and.  no  intention  to  inter- 
fere with  any  of  their  constitutional  rights. 

Tlie  advice  came  too  late.  The  Rebels  had  by  that 
time  gained  the  power  by  seizing  all  the  arms  and  organ- 


IIG  FOUR   YEARS   IX   SECESSIA. 

izing  tliemselvcs  tlirougliout  the  State ;  and  tliereafter 
tlioy  liad  full  and  absolute  SAvay. 

They  pillaged  and  destroyed  wherever  they  went,  and 
the  people  found  their  worst  enemies  were  at  home. 

Terror-stricken,  they  yielded,  for  they  knew  their  lives 
were  in  the  hands  of  the  oppressors,  and  after  that  period 
hardly  a  man  had  dared  to  lift  his  voice  against  the  out- 
rageous tyranny  imposed  upon  the  State. 

Perhaps  the  oppressed  were  wise  in  their  reticence, 
for  the  means  of  enforcing  eternal  silence  were  not 
wanting. 

Men  were  often  carried  off  by  aiTued  bands  who  broke 
into  quiet  habitations  at  unseasonable  hours  of  the  night ; 
were  whipped,  tarred  and  feathered ;  dragged  through 
horse-ponds,  and  often  hanged  or  otherwise  murdered, 
because  they  were  charged  with  disloj'alty  to  the  South. 

Loyalty  to  the  Union  was  the  unpardonable  offense, 
and  the  individual  suspected  of  any  such  sentiment  was 
liable  to  assassination  anywhere. 

Hundreds  of  men  escaped  from  the  confines  of  the 
State,  leaving  their  families  and  all  their  property  behind, 
fearing  to  remain  longer  where  their  lives  were  not  worth 
a  moment' s  purchase. 

Any  scoundrel  could  make  an  accusation  against  an 
honest  citizen  that  would  destroy  his  life,  or  drive  him, 
an  outcast  and  an  exile,  from  his  home  and  all  the  asso- 
ciations he  held  dear. 


DOWN  THE  Mississirn.  117 


\ 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DOWN     THE     MISSISSIPPI. 


A  Weary  Siege. — Tnaneness  of  Existence  on  the  Flotilla. — Monotony  and  Dreari- 
ness of  the  Scenes.— Melancholy  Character  of  the  Mighty  River.— Out  in  the 
Night.— A  Celestial  Symbol.— A  Canine  Convert.— A  Perplexed  Correspond- 
ent, and  Would-be  Bohemian. 

DuRixG  the  latter  part  of  tlie  montli  of  March,  1862, 
we  Avere  besieging  Island  Xo.  10,  and,  for  several  av eeks, 
life  on  the  National  Flotilla  was  dull  enough. 

There  we  were  anchored  in  the  midst  of  the  mighty 
river,  or  tied  to  the  submerged  trees,  watching  the 
occasional  shells  from  the  mortars,  the  turbid  eddying  of 
the  swollen  stream,  or  the  leaden  sky  that  hung  over  the 
dreary  scene  like  a  funeral  pall. 

AVe  could  go  nowhere  except  on  one  of  the  little  tugs 
that  plied  ceaselessly  from  gunboat  to  gunboat,  and 
transport  to  transport ;  and  then  we  could  not  imagine' 
the  direction  of  our  journeying,  or  anticipate  the  time  of 
our  return. 

The  Mississippi  was  shoreless ;  no  land  was  visible  ; 
and  so  we  paced  the  deck  of  the  vessel  and  gazed  out  into 
the  dull,  dreary  waste  of  waters,  and  listened  to  the  rush 
of  the  waves,  and  the  whirl  of  the  eddies,  until  the  mind 
stagnated  and  the  spirit  sank. 

We  had  no  books  to  peruse,  no  papers  to  read,  no 
letters  to  expect,  no  women  even  to  tease  or  talk  \o  ;  and 


118  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

indeed  Ave  -were  as  -wretclied  a  set  of  mortals  as  ever  com- 
mitted matiinioiiy,  or  contemplated  suicide. 

No  resource  was  left  us. 

No  remedy  had  we  for  our  iuuunieraLle  ills. 

There  was  no  satisfaction  in  to-daj',  and  no  hope  in  to- 
morrow. 

All  tlie  days  staggered  gloomily  along,  and  awoke  with 
stumbling  feet  the  weary  echoes  of  the  dreary  solitude. 

The  cave  of  Polyphemus  was  not  more  dismal  than 
were  our  own  surroundings.  Nature  seemed  to  sorrow 
everywhere — in  the  sky,  in  the  forest,  on  the  river. 

No  Future  was  apparent  there.  The  Present  was  born 
in  agony,  and  sank  with  pain  and  without  resignation 
into  tlie  arms  of  the  Past. . 

"Was  ever  river  more  dreary  than  the  Mississippi  I  It 
is  tristful  as  the  chant  of  Ayesha,  or  the  plaint  of  the 
Burmese  bird. 

It  is  the  terrestrial  Styx,  and  the  Acheron  of  America. 

Grand  it  may  be  ;  but  it  is  grand  as  the  Spliynx  is,  and 
as  melancholy. 

No  change,  no  relief  on  either  side. 

The  gray  cotton-woods  greeted  one  at  every  turn, 
looking  like  skeletons  by  day  and  spectres  at  night. 

Tlie  sombre  moss  covered  them  like  a  mantle  of  mourn- 
ing, as  if  Beauty  were  dead,  and  Nature  were  going  to 
her  funeral.  Deej),  dark,  dismal,  the  formless,  shoreless 
stream. 

How  it  whirled  and  boiled,  as  if  it  were  seething  above 
unseen  furnaces  of  unseen  fire  ! 

The  sky  appeared  to  borrow  the  sombre  semblance  of 
the  river.     No  gladness,  no  promise,  no  consolation  there. 


DOWN  THE  Mississiprr.  119 

The  clouds  were  murky  as  tlie  waves. 

Tlie  horizon  touched  the  tops  of  the  dreary  trees,  and 
the  dreary  trees  stood  drearily  in  the  dreary  waters. 

Misfortune,  disease,  and  death  were  the  portents  of 
Nature ;  and  the  eye  read  the  fate  of  Atreus  in  every 
external  thing. 

Often  I  paced  the  deck  of  our  sahle  craft,  long  after  all 
hands  had  piped  to  quarters ;  when  the  Night  and 
Morn  were  passing  each  other  in  awful  silence,  and 
looked  out  upon  the  darkness,  and  into  the  despairing 
face  of  Nature. 

IIow  impressively  still,  how  utterly  desolate  was  all  ! 

No  marvel  one  then  helieved  that  Pain  is  the  creative 
secret  of  the  Universe  ;  that  Sorrow  is  the  inheritance  of 
the  Sphere. 

All  ghastly  stories,  all  horrible  destinies,  all  Buddhist 
doctrines  seemed  true,  as  one  gazed  down  the  sad  mur- 
muring river,  and  watched  the  sombre  clouds  as  they 
stole  ghost-like  among  the  vapory  graves  of  the  troubled 
and  angry  sky. 

Dreariness,  desolation,  despondence,  despair ! 

Individuality  and  Spirit,  how  weak  when  the  super- 
stition of  Imagination  wraps  them  round  ! 

Still  the  clouds  glided  ghost-like,  and  the  river  surged  ; 
and  the  Night  waned  mournfully;  and  Thought  made 
Hades  for  the  soul. 

*  *  *  -jf 

Very  much  reason  to  doubt  is  there  if  what  we  call 
Heaven  ever  sympathizes  with  War ;  but,  one  morning, 
as  we  lay  on  the  Fleet,  we  had  an  indication  of  celestial 
recoGrnition  of  our  strife.  * 


120  FOUR  YE.VRS  IX  SECESSIA. 

The  Eastern  liorizon  was  clouded  as  the  sun  rose  ;  and 
soon  the  golden  beams  burst  out  from  half  a  dozen  clear 
spaces,  streaming  downward  to  tlie  rim  of  the  concave, 
and  lying  in  yellow  light  along  a  heavy  bank  of  shadow, 
giving  an  exact  representation  of  a  Fort  with  embrasures, 
parapet,  and  bastions,  behind  which  the  Grecian  gods 
might  have  been  struggling  for  their  ancient  realm  of 
Chaos  and  of  Night. 

The  scene  certainly  was  striking,  and  by  a  superstitious 
mind  would  have  been  invested  with  a  meaning,  and 
translated  according  to  the  promptings  of  Desire  and  of 
Fear. 

To  Reason,  it  was  naught  but  vapors  and  the  sun.  To 
the  Poet,  it  was  the  correspondence  of  the  Outward  with 
the  Interior  ;  to  the  Philosopher,  the  confonnation  of 
Nature  to  the  thought  of  Man. 

*  *  *  * 

To  change  from  the  sentimental  strain,  let  me  relate  an 
anecdote  of  a  dog— formerly  the  Rebel  General  Tighl- 
man's— which  remained  behind  after  the  capture  of  Fort 
Henry,  and  then  divided  his  company  with  different  offi- 
cers of  the  fleet. 

"  Ponto  "  seemed  to  be  a  strong  Unionist  in  his  feelings, 
and  to  have  deserted  the  insurgent  cause  as  soon  as  he 
had  an  opportunity. 

After  his  master  was  taken  prisoner,  he  would  not 
recognize  him,  but  would  growl  whenever  he  approached, 
and  take  refuge  near  the  Union  soldiers  or  sailors. 

That  he  had  cut  Tighlman'  s  acquaintance  was  evident ; 
and  his  growls  were  canine  rebukes  of  his  traitorous 
course. 


DOWN   THE   ^IISSISSIPPI.  121 

"Ponto"  had  grown  a  great  favorite,  and  was  invited 
to  various  repasts  upon  the  boats.  lie  was  exceedingly 
sensitive,  and  left  no  doubt  of  the  political  complexion 
of  his  mind.         * 

If  called  Jeff.  Davis,  "Ponto"  would  howl  most  dole- 
fully ;  and  if  styled  Abe  Lincoln,  would  bark  joyously. 

We  had  a  Rebel  banner  on  board,  and  whenever  that 
was  shown  him,  he  endeavored  to  tear  it  in  pieces,  and 
lost  his  temper  for  an  hour ;  but  the  sight  of  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  restored  his  amiability  ;  induced  him  to  walk 
on  his  hind  legs,  and  disjilay  all  possible  symptoms  of 
pleasure,  and  uncompromising  allegiance  to  the  Republic. 

I  do  not  suppose  "Ponto"  had  more  genius  than  many 
of  his  canine  brothers,  but  he  had  been  carefully  taught 
his  line  of  conduct,  and,  being  an  apt  pupil,  frequently 
amused  spectators  not  a  little. 

*  *  *  * 

We  had  on  the  Flotilla  at  that  time  a  Corres23ondent, 
who  at  different  periods  had  much  amused  the  Bohemi- 
ans by  his  unique  and  old-womanish  ideas  about  every 
thing,  but  especially  about  War.  He  seemed  to  have 
adopted  his  nomadic  pursuits  of  his  own  election ;  and 
yet  he  was  one  of  the  most  miserable  of  men. 

He  was  always  hunting  battles,  and  still  had  never 
seen  one  ;  but,  invariably  arriving  at  the  scene  after 
the  engagement  had  become  a  thing  of  the  past,  mourned 
most  bitterly  over  his  untimely  absence.  The  next  time 
there  was  a  fight,  he  vowed  he  would  witness  it;  but 
somehow,  before  the  battle  took  place,  he  would  be 
called  off  in  another  direction,  and  reappeared  only  to 
curse  his  ill  fortune. 


122  FOUR  YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

Nothing  pleased,  notliing  satisfied  him.  He  -was  a  per- 
petual coniplainer  and  grumbler ;  and  if  lie  had  had  a 
growlery,  after  the  manner  of  John  Jarndyce,  he  would 
have  been  its  continuous  occupant.       ^ 

He  suffered  like  a  domestic  Prometheus ;  and,  though 
rather  amiable  by  nature,  swore  like  a  steamboat-mate 
on  every  exjiedition,  and  declared  the  times,  the  army, 
the  situation,  the  Administration,  every  thing,  entirely 
wrong. 

His  baggage  was  always  lost ;  he  was  ever  too  late ; 
his  head  ached,  or  his  boots  were  too  small. 

The  "World  refused  in  any  instance  to  go  right  with 
him.  The  Fates  were  opposed  to  him  ;  the  Furies  pur- 
sued him  as  they  did  Orestes,  and  not  even  his  maledic- 
tions would  appease,  nor  his  misfortunes  mollify  them. 

Poor  devil  of  a  journalist !  he  could  never  learn  to  be 
a  Bohemian,  which  generally  means  an  ill-fated  fellow,  of 
a3sthetic  and  luxurious  tastes,  born  out  of  jilace,  and  in 
opposition  to  his  circumstances — who  assumes  indiffer- 
ence to  all  things,  and  scoffs  because  he  cannot  smile. 

It  was  not  strange  the  Correspondent  mentioned  should 
be  disgusted  with  the  life  he  souglit  to  lead,  and  its  thou- 
sand anno3^ances  ;  but  he  certainly  ought  to  have  retired 
from  his  profession,  or  played  the  devil-may-care  part 
that  belonged  to  his  role. 

The  Bohemians  talked  of  "buying  him  off;" — he  soon 
after  abandoned  the  tribe,  poor  fellow,  and  in  sheer  des- 
peration became  a  Benedict — for  his  perpetual  maunder- 
ings  had  so  moved  their  compassion  as  to  ruffle  the  self- 
composure  necessar}'-  to  the  self-poise  of  a  true  disciple 
of  Zinffara. 


INAUGUKATION   OF  BATTEKY-RUNNING.  123 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

INAUGURATION   OF  BATTERY-EUNNING. 

the  Carondclct  and  Pittsburg  Defying  the  Guns  of  Island  No.  10.— Preparations 
for  tho  Hazardous  Enterprise. — Scenes  on  the  Flag-ship. — Departure  of  the 
Pittsburg. — An  Anxious  Period. — The  Artillery  of  the  Rebels  and  of  Heaven 
— ^Thunder,  Lightning,  and  Gunpowder. — Safe  Passage  of  the  Union  Vessels. 

The  first  time  the  Rebel  batteries  were  defied,  was  in 
April,  1862,  at  Island  Xo.  10.  The  experiment  was  then 
regarded  as  desperate ;  and  they  who  made  the  attempt 
Were  considered  members  of  a  forlorn  hope. 

The  gunboat  Carondelet  took  the  lead  in  the  enter- 
prise, and  the  Pittsburg  followed.  I  was  quartered  on 
the  flag- ship  Benton  at  the  time,  and  witnessed  the  novel 
and  exciting  scene  with  no  little  interest. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  April  G,  it  was  believed 
on  the  Benton,  fj'om  certain  outward  signs,  that  the  dan- 
gerous experiment  of  running  the  blockade  would  be 
tried  again  on  the  first  dark  night ;  and  before  evening 
it  was  whispered  that  the  Pittsburg  was  the  gunboat 
selected. 

Commodore    Foote   sent  for  Captain  Thompson,    and 

the  two  were   closeted  together  for   some   time,    while 

the   active  movements,    and  the  air  of   unusual  bustle 

on  board  the  Pittsburg,  corroborated  the  opinion  already 

entertained. 

At  eight  o'clock,  or  four  bells,  as  they  say  on  ship- 
it 


124  FOUR  YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

"board,  the  sky,  wliicli  had  been  clear  and  briglit  all  day, 
"began  to  clond  ;  and  as  tlie  evening  advanced,  the  in- 
dications of  a  storm  increased.  Many  were  tlie  meteoro^ 
logical  prognostications  ;  and  it  Avas  noticed  that  the  Com- 
modore and  Captains  Phelps  and  Thompson  anxiously 
■watched  tlie  sky,  as  if  tlie  nature  of  the  night  Avoiild 
shape  certain  important  events. 

All  the  officers  and  crew  gathered  on  deck  after  dark, 
and  debated  about  the  weather  until  ten  or  eleven 
o'clock. 

Some  thought  it  would  be  squally,  and  others  clear; 
and  many  under  the  fonner  impression  "turned  in,"  to 
use  a  nautical  phrase,  contending  that  the  blockade 
would  not  be  run  during  the  night. 

The  correspondent'  of  Tlie  Tribune  concluded  to  re- 
main up,  for  the  night  was  very  warm,  and  the  atmo- 
sphere so  close  below  that  sleep  to  him  was  a  matter 
certainly  not  to  be  dreamed  of. 

I  felt  an  interest  in  the  coming  tempest,  if  there  was 
to  be  one ;  and  so  I  paced  the  deck  and  smoked,  until 
long  after  midnight. 

Between  one  and  two  o'clock  it  was  evident  we  would 
be  favored  Avith  a  storm,  from  the  augmented  darkness, 
thunder,  and  lightning. 

About  that  time,  Captain  Phelps  and  Commodore  Foote 
appeared  on  deck,  and  directed  their  attention  especially 
to  the  Pittsburg,  \j'u\g  to  the  right  of  us  against  the 
Missouri  shore.  The  Pittsburg  looked  ready  for  action, 
and  I  then  knew  the  blockade  was  to  be  run  before 
dawn. 

Ten  minutes  after  two,  the  Pittsburg  moved  out  into 


INAUGURATION  OF  BATTERY-RUNNING.  125 

the  stream  so  quietly  that  no  one  who  had  not  been  on 
the  watch  would  have  noticed  her. 

On  the  side  she  would  expose  to  the  Tennessee  shon^ 
on  her  downward  passage,  was  a  barge  loaded  Avith 
bales  of  hay,  entirely  covering  her  casemates,  and  de- 
signed, of  course,  to  protect  her  from  the  Rebel  bat- 
teries. 

She  had  not  moved  a  hundred  yards  before  it  appeared 
the  crew  of  the  Benton  had  been  aj)prised  of  what  was 
on  the  tapis. 

Some  thirty  or  forty  sleepy-looking  fellows  came  on 
deck,  and  turned  their  optics — from  which  all  drowsi- 
ness was  soon  dispelled  by  the  interest  felt  in  the  occa- 
sion— towards  the  gunboat,  leisurely  moving  doAvn  the 
stream. 

"There  she  goes!"  "That's  the  Pittsburg  !"  "Good 
luck  to  the  craft!"  were  heard,  in  low  tones  of  voice; 
and  all  eyes  were  strained  through  the  darkness,  which 
was  dispelled  every  few  seconds  by  the  lurid  lightning. 

Much  fear  was  entertained  for  the  Pittsburg's  suc- 
cess— far  more  than  had  been  for  the  Carondelet — because 
it  was  believed  the  Rebels  had  profited  by  tlieir  first  ex- 
perience, were  more  on  the  alert,  and  had  probably 
depressed  their  guns,  which  tliey  had  shot  over  the 
latter,  as  she  passed  within  musket's  reach  of  tlieir  roar- 
ing mouths. 

Hundreds  of  hearts  beat  anxiously  as  the  Pittsburg 
moved  placidly  down-stream ;  no  light  and  no  living 
thing  visible  on  board,  even  when  the  lightning  danced, 
and  played,  and  blazed,  over  all  the  sky. 

It  was  an  impressive  spectacle,  to  witness  the  solitary 


126  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

and  gallant  gunboat  gliding  down  the  broad  river,  amid 
tbe  tempestuous  and  liowling  night. 

"  What  would  be  the  fate  of  the  brave  souls  on 
board?"  occurred  to  many  minds;  but  no  one  could 
answer  the  question. 

The  Pittsburg  passed  the  first  battery,  which  had 
been  spiked  a  few  nights  before,  and  was  consequently 
hushed,  and  was  opposite  the  second,  when  a  volley 
of  musketry  and  a  roar  of  cannon  greeted  her. 

The  artificial  thunder  made  numerous  hearts  leap  and 
pulses  throb  ;  but  the  sable  craft  seemed  to  regard  it 
not,  keeping  on  as  before,  mysteriously  and  silently. 

The  third,  fourth,  fifth,  sixth,  seventh,  and  eighth  bat- 
teries were  passed,  and  all  the  shore  guns,  and  those 
from  the  island  opened  on  her  with  terrible  din.  But 
we  saw  by  the  glare  of  the  skies  that  she  was  neither 
crippled  nor  sunk.  Many  thanks  were  offered,  and 
devout  wishes  shaped  themselves  into  prayers  for  the 
success  of  the  gallant  vessel. 

In  twenty  minutes  after  starting,  she  was  hidden  from 
view  by  the  bend  in  the  river ;  but  the  firing  continued, 
and  her  signal-guns,  anxiously  listened  for,  were  not  heard. 

Not  a  few  feared  she  was  lost ;  but  the  majority  de- 
clared she  must  be  safe,  and  the  sailors  offered  large  bets 
of  rum  on  the  successful  issue  of  the  enterprise. 

About  three  o'clock  we  thought  we  heard  the  Pitts- 
burg' s  signal-guns ;  but  no  one  could  be  sure,  for  the 
thunder  and  the  enemy's  batteries,  and  the  echoes  so 
mingled  that  no  one  could  distinguish  any  of  the  sounds 
with  accuracy. 

Captain  Phelps  and  a  number  of  the  officers  remained 


INAUGURATION  OF  BATTERY-RUNNING.  127 

on  deck  imtil  four  o'clock,  when  the  enemy  still  fired  at 
intervals,  and  tlie  night  had  grown  darker,  and  the 
tempest  was  falling  with  greater  fury.  They  could  see  and 
learn  nothing  new ;  but,  hoping  for  the  best,  they  went 
below,  and  I  with  them,  in  dripping  garments,  though 
not  to  sleep,  into  the  oven  of  a  cabin. 

The  anxiety  continued  until  after  breakfast,  when  we 
learned  the  Pittsburg  had  gotten  through  safely ;  that 
four  transports  and  two  barges  had  reached  New  Madrid 
by  means  of  the  canal,  and  would  probably  be  enabled 
to  convey  General  Pope's  forces  across  the  river  when- 
ever he  desired. 


128  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SURRENDER  OF  ISLAND   NO.    X. 

A  Mysterious  Vessel  astern. — Preparations  for  Battle  on  the  Benton. — Pro- 
position for  tlie  Enemy  to  Surrender. — Unconditional  Terms  aalced. — The 
Rebel  Prisoners  and  their  Opinions. — Curious  Scene. — Feminine  Accom- 
paniments to  a  Siege. 

After  the  running  of  the  Rebel  batteries  of  Island 
No.  10,  and  the  passage  through  the  canal  to  New 
Madrid,  Mo.,  of  the  transports  and  barges  mentioned 
in  the  last  chapter,  great  interest  was  felt,  especially  on 
the  afternoon  of  Monday,  April  7,  to  hear  from  General 
Pope,  and  to  learn  the  progress  of  affairs  in  and  about 
the  latter  place. 

Every  one  was  waiting  with  anxiety  for  the  next  turn 
in  events  ;  and  while  the  officers  and  men  were  on  the 
deck  of  the  Benton,  a  little  before  nine  o'  clock  they  dis- 
covered a  strange  vessel  turning  the  point  in  the  river 
below,  and  coming  up  astern  of  the  flagship. 

No  one  could  imagine  what  she  was  or  her  purpose, 
and  all  the  ship' s  glasses  could  not  solve  the  question. 

Probably  it  was  a  Rebel  gunboat  that  had  run  Pope' s 
blockade,  or  perliaps  the  Floating  Battery,  of  which  we 
had  heard  so  much,  under  tow  of  a  Secession  transport. 

That  there  was  an-  opportunitj'  for  a  fight,  every  one 
believed.  The  gunners  were  called ;  the  fifty-pound 
rifled  Dahlgrens  at  the  stern  were  run  out,  and  every 
preparation  made  for  action. 


SUKKENDEli   OF  ISLAND   No.    X.  129 

All  on  board  the  Benton  were  on  the  qui  mve^  and 
orders  were  given  to  reserve  fire  until  tlie  supposed 
enemy  had  coine  witliin  a  mile's  distance. 

In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  the  boat  had 
been  discovered,  she  was  heard  to  give  four  sharp,  slirill 
whistles ;  and  then  the  prospect  of  an  engagement  was 
materially  decreased. 

It  was  probably  a  friendly  steamer,  or  it  might  be  a 
Rebel  fraud  to  deceive  the  Benton. 

The  gunners  still  held  their  position,  while  the  flagship 
answered  tlie  signal,  and  along  the  shore  and  among  the 
woods  the  echoes  responded  to  the  scream  of  the  escaping 
steam. 

The  Commodore's  tug  was  ordered  to  drop  down,  and 
determine,  if  possible,  the  mission  of  the  stranger ;  and 
Lieutenant  Bishop  stepped  into  the  Dauntless,  and 
steamed  awaj-  into  the  shadows  of  the  night. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  tug  returned,  and  with 
her  two  young  Rebel  Lieutenants  under  a  flag  of  truce, 
with  the  information  that  they  wished  to  confer  with 
the  Commodore. 

They  were  at  once  escorted  to  the  cabin,  and  proved 
to  be  Lieutenants  George  S.  Martin  and  E.  S.  McDowell, 
empowered  to  propose  the  surrender  of  the  Island  on 
certain  conditions. 

The  Commodore  replied  mildly,  but  firmly,  that  it  was 
unnecessary  to  name  th(i  conditions,  as  he  could  listen  to 
no  proposition  based  upon  conditions  ;  that  an  absolutely 
unconditional  surrender  was  the  sole  thing  possible. 

The  young  Lieutenants  seemed  in  excellent  spirits,  and 
augmented  them  at  the  request   of  Lieutenant  Bishop, 


130  FOUR   YExVRS   IN   SECESSIA. 

after  leaving  the  Commodore's  presence,  by  imbibing  an 
artificial  quantity.  Tlicy  said  tliey  were  unable  to  make 
re})ly  to  the  Commodore's  demand  -without  consulting 
their  principal,  Captain  W.  Y.  C.  Humes,  the  com- 
mander of  the  Island. 

They  departed,  therefore,  in  company  Tvith  Captain 
Phelps  of  the  Benton,  for  the  De  Soto,  which  had 
brought  them  up,  and  still  lay  half  a  mile  astern,  and 
returned  a  little  after  midnight  to  give  us  the  almost 
unnecessary  intelligence  that  they  had  accepted  the  flag 
officer's  terms — an  unconditional  surrender. 

In  regard  to  the  shore  batteries,  they  stated  they  could 
say  nothing,  as  they  had  no  command  over  that  part  of 
the  fortifications,  and  were  ignorant  of  the  officer  in 
charge  of  the  forces  there. 

From  the  fact  of  the  proposition  of  surrender  coming 
through  two  Lieutenants,  it  was  believed  that  tlie  greater 
part  of  the  Rebel  forces,  with  the  chief  officers,  had 
ab-eady  made  their  exodus — a  surmise  that  subsequent 
circumstances  proved  entirely  correct. 

At  daylight  a  number  of  white  flags  were  seen  flying 
from  the  Island,  and  no  person  could  be  discovered  along 
the  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  shore. 

The  gunboats  St.  Louis  and  Mound  City,  and  one  or 
two  of  the  transports,  went  down  about  seven  in  the 
morning  ;  and,  soon  after,  a  tug  from  the  Benton  steamed 
over  to  the  shore  batteries  with  Captain  Phelps  of  the 
flagship,  one  or  two  other  officers,  and  myself. 

On  the  Island  there  were  about  three  hundred  prison- 
ers, mostly  Tennesseeans — the  command  of  Captain 
Humes,   who    had   surrendered   to   Commodore  Foote. 


SURRENDER  OF  ISLAND  No.   X.  131 

Tliey  were  all  artillerists,  and   their  officers   generally 
quite  young  men. 

I  had  several  hours'  conversation  with  the  captives,  and 
from  them  learned  the  sentiments  they  held  in  regard  to 
the  "War.  They  were  all  bitterly  opposed  to  their  princi- 
pal commanders  ;  said  they  had  had  different  leaders 
every  day  or  two  ;  and  that  they  had  been  most  unex- 
pectedly deserted  by  the  forces  on  the  main  land. 

The  privates  universally  expressed  themselves  weary 
and  disgusted  with  the  AVar  ;  and  gave  it  as  their  opinion 
that  the  Rebellion  was  well-nigh  crushed  ;  that  the  South 
could  not  carry  it  on  but  a  month  or  two  longer,  and  that 
it  must  sink  beneath  its  own  weight. 

HoAV  much  they  were  mistaken  ! 

They  said  if  they  were  released,  they  would  not  seiTe 
in  the  ranks  again  ;  that  they  had  been  cruelly  deceived 
by  their  leaders,  and  that  the  Rebellion  had  been  under- 
taken by  a  few  demagogues  and  unprincipled  parties  for 
the  purpose  of  self-aggrandizement. 

They  appeared  extremely  well  satisfied  with  their  new 
position,  and  were  the  most  cheerful  prisoners  I  remem- 
ber to  have  seen. 

The  privates  were  healthful  and  good-looking  men,  for 
the  most  part,  and  possessed  of  more  than  the  average 
degree  of  intelligence  found  among  the  common  people 
of  the  South.  They  were  comfortably  though  poorly 
clad,  and  said  they  had  an  abundance  of  food,  but  had  not  * 
received  a  dollar  in  payment  for  their  services  during  the 
time — a  period  of  some  six  months — that  had  expired 
since  their  enlistment. 

The  officers  generally  held — at  least  expressed — very 


132  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SECESSIA. 

different  opinious ;  and,  though,  cautious,  manifested  an 
earnest  attachment  to  the  cause  of  the  Rebellion,  and 
declared  they  were  determined  to  adhere  to  it  while  there 
was  the  least  hope  of  success. 

They  acknowledged  they  did  not  believe  the  stories,  so 
extensively  circulated  by  the  Southern  newspapers — that 
the  North  designed  to  abolitionize  the  Slave  States  (the 
North  had  no  such  intentions,  then),  or  plunder  their 
homes ;  or  ravish  their  wives  and  sisters ;  or  that  the 
Yankees  were  a  horde  of  barbarians  and  blood-thirsty 
ruffians ;  or  any  of  the  absurd  twaddle  the  editors  pub- 
lished, but  knew  to  be  utterly  false. 

All  such  statements,  the  officers  confessed,  were  de- 
signed to  influence  the  common  people,  and  render  them 
devoted  to  the  cause  they  had  espoused. 

The  officers  furthermore  remarked  that  the  South  had 
long  been  jealous  of  the  steadily  augmenting  power  of 
the  North,  and  believed  that  the  latter  was  encroaching 
upon  the  Slave  States,  and  was  likely  to  extinguish  the 
peculiar  institution  by  restricting  it  to  certain  limits, 
which  must  insure  its  ultimate  destruction. 

The  election  of  a  sectiouj \  candidate  to  the  Presidency 
had  rendered  the  South  universally  restless ;  for  they 
regarded  it  as  the  inception  of  an  open  contest  against 
Slavery,  and  that  they  could  not  remain  in  the  Union 
without  danger  to  their  servile  jjroperty. 

They  had  grown  up  with  and  among  slaves,  and  wliile 
they  did  noi  ask  the  North  to  admire  Slavery,  they 
claimed  for  themselves  certain  rights  under  the  Constitu- 
tion, which  they  thought  they  could  not  retain  if  they 
waited  until  the  expiration  of  Lincoln' s  term  of  office. 


SURRENDER   OF  ISLAND  No.   X.  133 

They  were  attached  to  Slavery  on  account  of  the  ben- 
efits they  believed  it  conferred,  both  on  the  black  and 
white  race  ;  and  they  were  convinced  the  great  agricultu- 
ral interests  of  their  section  could  not  be  served  without 
compulsory  labor. 

They  held  the  opinion  that  there  was  an  irrepressible 
contlict  between  the  Free  and  Slave  States,  as  had  been 
first  announced  by  William  H.  Seward,  and  that  the  dis- 
position of  the  North  to  interfere  with  the  local  institu- 
tions of  the  South,  would  necessarily  result  in  war ;  and 
that  for  this  reason  they  desired  a  separation. 

They  greatly  desired  peace ;  but  the  present  struggle 
had  destroyed  all  hope  of  it,  and  had  rendered  the  resto- 
ration of  the  Union  an  absolute  impossibility. 

Of  course,  such  arguments,  if  they  deserved  the  name, 
are  old  and  threadbare,  and  have  been  refuted  again  and 
again ;  and  I  only  give  them  as  specimens  of  the  senti- 
ments and  conversation  of  the  Rebel  officers  at  tliat  time. 
-:f  *  *  * 

At  one  of  the  encampments  on  the  Tennessee  River, 
about  twenty  well-dressed  and  quite  comely  women  were 
discovered  as  sole  occupants  of  the  place. 

They  said  they  were  friends  of  the  officers,  who  had  left 
their  baggage  in  their  charge  until  they  met  again. 

The  women  were  from  Memphis,  and  it  required  no 
very  penetrating  optics  to  deteiTnine  their  positio^  and 
calling.  They  belonged,  of  course,  to  the  Lorette  school, 
and  had  endeavored,  doubtless,  to  assuage  the  severity 
of  the  campaign  by  the  tenderness  of  their  devotion  and 
the  warmth  of  their  attachment. 

Some  of  them  were  quite  pretty  and  very  young,  and 

{ 


134  FOUR   YEARS  IN   SECESSIA. 

appeared  to  regard  the  surrender  of  the  Island  and  the 
flight  of  tlieir  lovers  as  a  pleasant  jest ;  and  seemed  to 
enjo}'^  it  vastly. 

Quite  cosmopolitan  in  character,  they  were  unquestion- 
ably as  willing  to  extend  their  gentle  favors  to  the  Na- 
tional officers  as  to  their  late  Rebel  protectors  ;  knowing 
that  Love  makes  friends  of  enemies,  and  by  the  alkahest 
of  its  subtile  chemistry  melts  all  distinctions  in  a  common 
crucible. 

*  *  *  * 

A  day  or  two  after  the  surrender  of  the  Island  proper, 
General  Pope  followed  and  captured  about  twenty-six 
hundred  of  the  retreating  Rebels  that  had  been  doing 
duty  at  the  shore  batteries,  which  furnished  the  main 
strength  of  the  position. 

Pope  had  crossed  the  river,  and,  by  a  skillful  dispo- 
sition of  the  two  gunboats  and  his  forces,  so  completely 
cut  off  the  insurgents,  with  the  assistance  of  the  high 
waters  on  the  shc^re  opppsite  New  Madrid,  that  they  sur- 
rendered at  discretion,  without  the  loss  of  a  single  life  on 
our  side  by  the  casualties  of  battle. 


sniLon.  185 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

SIIILOH. 

Desperate  Determination  of  the  South.— Confidence  of  the  Enemy.— Cause  of 
the  Early  Action.— The  First  Day's  Fighting.— Fearful  Struggle.— Intensity 
of  the  Excitement.— Recklessness  of  Life.— Panic-stricken  Regiments.— 
Arrival  of  General  Buell.— The  Second  Day's  Fighting.— Defeat  of  the  Foe. 

The  Union  forces,  on  tlie  clear,  pleasant,  balmy  Satur- 
day night  of  AprU  5,  1862,  wlien  they  sought  their 
tents  to  rest,  had  little  thought  the  quiet  of  tlie  beautiful 
Sabbath  would  be  marred  by  the  roar  of  cannon,  the 
rattle  of  musketry,  the  hoarse  battle-cry,  the  clash  of 
resounding  arms. 

They  were  taken  at  disadvantage;  but  they  soon 
rallied,  and  waged  the  fierce  battle  as  if  they  had  been 
looking  for  its  coming  at  the  very  hour. 

It  was  notorious  among  the  enemy,  that  General  BueU 
was  marching  rapidly  to  join  his  force  with  that  of 
General  Grant.  He  had  been  anxiously  expected  for 
several  days  ;  and  to  drive  back  and  inflict  a  heavy  and 
fatal  blow  upon  Grant,  before  his  allies  could  come  to  his 
assistance,  was  the  best  of  policy,  if  not  a  military 
necessity. 

The  Rebels  numbered  over  one  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  of  their  choicest  troops.  Kentucky,  Tennessee, 
Arkansas,  Mississippi,  Alabama,  Louisiana,  and  texaa 
had  sent  their  best  soldiers  to  fight  the  decisive  battle  ; 
and  one  hundred  and  sixty-two  regiments  had  gone  forth 


136  FOUR   YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

from  the  South  to  annihilate  the  "barbarous  Yankees," 
and  establisli  for  Secession  a  prestige  and  glory  that 
future  time  should  not  destroy  or  dim. 

No  one  who  had  not  traveled,  during  1862,  in  the 
Slave  States,  could  have  any  idea  of  how  the  South 
moved  Heaven  and  Earth  to  render  a  great  victory  on 
the  Tennessee  absolutely  certain.  The  South  contributed 
her  strongest  weapons  and  her  best  men  to  the  purpose. 

Every  disloyal  community  had  been  drafted.  No  per- 
son capable  of  bearing  arms  was  permitted  to  remain  at 
home. 

Old  and  young  alike  shouldered  their  musket,  or  rifle, 
or  shot-gun,  and  departed  for  the  scene  of  action.  • 

The  most  inflammatory  appeals  were  made.  When 
appeals  failed,  threats  were  used ;  and  when  threats 
were  insufiicient,  violence  was  employed. 

Every  Southern  woman  exercised  her  influence  in  the 
cause  of  the  Rebellion ;  bade  her  husband,  brother, 
father,  lover,  friend,  make  another  struggle  for  his  fire- 
side and  country,  and  victory  Avould  reward  his  efforts. 

The  power  of  the  North  would  be  broken  ;  the  foreign 
hirelings  of  the  tyrant  Lincoln  would  be  expelled  for- 
ever from  the  "sacred  soil,"  and  future  generations 
would  rise  and  call  him  blessed  who  flew  to  his  conn- 
try's  succor  in  the  hour  of  her  extremest  need. 

The  best  of  Southern  Generals  were  summoned  from 
every  quarter  to  conduct  the  great  battles,  to  lend  their 
counsels,  and  employ  their  strong  arms  in  the  service  of 
Secessia,  and  make  a  last  and  desperate  effort  for  the 
independence  of  the  "Confederacy." 

Manassas  was  evacuated  that  the  best  soldiers  on  the 


siiiLoir.  137 

Potomao  might  contribute  to  the  army  on  tlie  Ten- 
nessee. 

Pt^nsacola  was  abandoned  that  the  experienced  artil- 
lerists of  the  South  might  depart  for  Corinth. 

Island  No.  10  was  weakened  tluit  the  regiments  there 
assembled  might  give  their  combined  strength  to  the 
forlorn  hope. 

A  mighty  army  had  taken  its  stand  on  the  shores 
of  a  river  which  was  to  be  made  immortal  by  the  over- 
throw of  the  North  and  the  triumphant  success  of  the 
South. 

Beauregard,  and  Johnston,  and  Polk,  and  Bragg,  and 
Jackson,  and  Breckinridge,  had  united  in  their  counsels, 
and  taken  great  oaths  to  do  or  die  in  the  cause  of  Slavery, 
and  for  the  extinction  of  Freedom  in  the  model  Re- 
public. 

When  the  battle  was  forced  upon  us,  on  Sunday, 
April  6,  1862,  the  enemy  very  far  outnumbered  us,  and 
was  confident  of  success.  He  had  been  assured  he 
could  not  be  defeated.  He  had  confidence  in  his  leaders, 
and  he  had  sworn,  as  Hannibal  had  sworn  in  his  early 
youth,  to  conquer  or  to  die — a  rhetorical  phrase  very 
popular  in  the  South,  and  most  frequently  employed 
wh(^n  death  seems  at  the  greatest  distance. 

The  engagement  was  brought  on  by  a  body  of  the 
Union  infantry  who  were  ordered  to  capture  a  troop  of 
some  three  hundred  Rebel  cavalry,  who  had  for  several 
daj^s  greatly  harassed  our  army. 

The  cavalry  was  supposed  to  be  at  a  certain  point  be- 
yond our  lines,  and  the  infantry  marched  on  expecting 
to  surprise  them,   but  were  surprised,  as  was  General 


138  FOUR  YEAPwS  IN   SECESSIA. 

Grant's  entire  command,  who  had  no  idea  of  a  general 
engagement. 

Beauregard  had  had  for  two  weeks,  it  is  said,  a  num- 
ber of  spies  in  our  camp,  and  was  as  fully  informed  of 
our  plans,  opinions,  and  expectations  as  if  he  had  been 
the  confidential  friend  and  adviser  of  the  Comniander-in- 
Cliief.  He  had  employed  the  cavalry  as  a  decoy,  and 
was  aware  our  army  was  entirely  unprepared  for  an 
engagement. 

In  that  condition,  at  that  most  critical  and  unfortunate 
hour,  the  great  body  of  the  Confederate  army  liad  ad- 
vanced within  range,  and  suddenly  opened  a  terrible  fire 
of  musketry  upon  General  Prentiss' s  Division,  throwing 
the  left  wing  into  great  confusion ;  at  the  same  time  pour- 
ing into  our  encampment  a  perfect  storm  of  canister, 
grape,  and  shell,  causing  terrible  destruction. 

For  some  minutes  much  disorder  prevailed,  and  the 
ofllcers  feared  at  first  that  a  panic  would  seize  the  sol- 
diers ;  but  the  coolness  and  bravery  of  the  principal 
commanders  prevented  such  a  disaster. 

A  line  of  battle  was  speedily  formed,  amid  the  shower 
of  shot  and  the  deafening  roar  of  Rebel  artillery,  and  a 
stout  resistance  made. 

At  that  juncture,  the  fire  of  the  Rebels  for  a  few  mo- 
ments diminished,  but  was  soon  reopened  as  fiercely  as 
ever  upon  the  left  and  center  of  General  Sherman's  divi- 
sion, which  was  driven  back  with  great  loss,  exposing 
our  extreme  left,  under  General  McClernand,  to  its  de- 
structive sweep. 

After  ten  minutes,  our  whole  army  was  formed  in  line, 
and  our  brave  soldiers,  extending  three  miles,  began  to 


isiiiLou.  139 

return  the  fire  of  the  foe  with  steady  and  continuous  vol- 
leys of  musketry,  sending  many  a  Rebel,  who  had  ex- 
pected another  Manassas,  to  his  eternal  rest. 

During  a  period  of  four  hours  the  deadly  strife  con- 
tinued ;  the  enemy  displaying  a  degree  of  obstinate  cour- 
age he  had  never  before  shown ;  and  iighting  with  a 
desperate  determination  that  compelled  our  forces  to  re- 
cede gradually  before  him. 

The  generalship  on  the  part  of  the  "  Confederates"  was 
consummate — far  exceeding  -ours,  and  deserving,  from  a 
military  point  of  view,  of  the  highest  admiration. 

When  we  attacked  a  certain  point,  we  met  with  resist- 
ance from  a  new  quarter ;  when  we  went  to  the  right,  we 
were  attacked  from  the  left ;  when  vre  advanced  to  the 
center,  a  deadly  fire  was  opened  on  us  from  the  right ; 
and  so  we  were  perpetually  deceived  by  the  skUl  and 
strategy  of  our  foes. 

Constant  efforts  were  made  to  flank  our  regiments,  and 
in  many  instances  the  Rebels  narrowly  escaped  success ; 
so  much  so  was  this  the  case,  that  we  were  again  and 
again  put  upon  the  defensive,  when  the  offensive  was  the 
need  of  the  hour. 

By  that  time  the  enemy  had  occupied  a  large  portion 
of  the  ground  on  which  we  had  been  encamped  when 
the  action  began ;  and  we  were  still  falling  back  before 
the  "Confederates,"  who  seemed  to  be  fighting  with 
more  and  more  determination,  and  who  were  doubtless 
cheered  and  encouraged  by  their  early  success. 

The  Union  center  evinced  unmistakable  symptoms  of 
giving  way,  for  it  was  sorely  pressed,  and  the  fortunes 
of  the  day  appeared  to  be  against  us,  wlum  General  Hurl- 

10 


140  FOUR   YEARS   IN  SECESSIA. 

Ibut's  division  Avas  ordered  to  its  support.  The  division 
moved  in  good  time,  and  did  good  service. 

Hotter  and  liotter  grew  the  contest ;  fiercer  and  fiercer 
the  struggle. 

Each  man  fought  as  if  snccess  or  defeat  depended  on 
his  own  right  arm  ;  and  charge  after  charge  was  made  on 
the  Rebels  to  regain  the  ground  we  had  lost. 

They  stood  firm  as  a  rock ;  and  though  our  artillery 
often  swept  down  their  ranks,  and  left  fearful  gaps  in 
their  columns,  they  manifested  no  trepidation,  nor  did 
they  waver  for  a  moment. 

Tlie  living  supplied  the  place  of  the  dead.  The  musket* 
that  had  fallen  from  a  lifeless  hand  was  seized  at  once,  and 
the  horrid  strife  swept  on  as  before.  The  force  of  the 
enemy  appeared  increasing,  and  where  the  greatest 
havoc  was  made,  there  the  strongest  opposition  was 
shown. 

Hand-to-hand  contests  were  innumerable.  Every  strug- 
.gle  was  for  life. 

Quarter  was  asked  on  neither  side,  and  the  ground 
drank  up  the  blood  of  hundreds  of  brave  fellows  every 
hour. 

Men  lost  their  semblance  of  humanity,  and  the  spirit 
'of  the  demon  shone  in  their  faces. 

There  was  but  one  desire,  and  that  was  to  destroy. 

There  was  litth^  shouting.  The  warriors  were  too  much 
in  earnest.  They  set  their  teeth  firm,  and  strained  their 
every  nerve  to  its  utmost  tension. 

Death  lost  all  its  terrors,  and  men  seemed  to  feast  upon 
the  sight  of  blood. 

The  light  of  the  sun  was  obscured  by  the  clouds  of  sul- 


SHILOII.  141 

,phiiroiis  emoke,  and  tlie  ground  became  moist  and  slip- 
pery with  human  gore. 

The  atmosphere  trembled  with  the  shock  of  tlie  armies, 
and  the  earth  shook  with  th(^  tramp  of  the  thousands  and 
tens  of  thousands  of  warring  foes. 

The  balance  of  victory  ever  varied.  It  now  inclined  to 
this  side,  and  now  to  that.  Here  the  Unionists  gained  an 
advantage;  there  the  "Confederates." 

Advance  was  followed  by  retreat ;  success  by  repulse. 

At  this  point  we  drove  the  enemy  back,  but  were 
driven  back  in  return.  Success  was  always  shifting,  but 
never  settled, 

Hope  and  fear,  joy  and  sorrow,  seized  the  soul  by  turns, 
and  every  hour  held  a  month  of  emotions. 

All  consciousness  of  time  ceased  ;  all  thought  of  the 
Future,  all  recollection  of  the  Past.  Every  thing  was  ab- 
sorbed in  the  sanguinary  Present,  and  external  Nature 
assumed  the  hue  of  blood. 

Men  glared  at  each  other  as  at  wild  beasts  ;  and,  when 
a  shell  burst  with  fatal  effect  among  a  crowd  of  the  ad- 
vancing foe,  and  arms,  legs,  aucl  heads  were  torn  off,  a 
grim  smile  of  pleasure  lighted  up  the  smoke-begrimed 
faces  of  the  transformed  beings  who  Avitnessed  the  catas- 
trophe. 

Soldiers  were  wounded  and  knew  it  not,  so  intense  was 
their  excitement,  and  often  a  mortal  hurt  was  announced 
to  the  victim  only  by  the  cessation  of  vitality. 

Men  with  knitted  brows  and  flushed  cheeks  fought 
madly  over  ridges,  along  ravines,  and  up  steep  ascents, 
with  blood  and  perspiration  streaming  down  their  faces. 

Men  with  shattered  fingers  chansred  their  muskets  to 


143  FOUR   YEARS   IX   SECESSIA.' 

their  left  liaiids,  aud  still  fired  their  pieces  as  best  they 
could. 

Everywhere  Avas  mad  excitement ;  cverywliere  was 
horror.  Commanders  galloped  wildly  to  the  front  of  their 
regiments,  and  cheered  them  on,  ii&ing  their  sabers  on 
each  and  every  foe,  and  urging  tlieir  spirited  steeds  where 
ever  the  troops  were  falling  back,  careless  of  tlieir  own 
life,  as  if  they  had  a  million  souls  to  spare. 

Captains,  majors,  colonels,  and  generals  fought  like 
private  soldiers,  and  it  Avas  not  uncommon  to  see  a  field- 
officer  firing  a  musket  or  charging  with  his  revolver 
upon  the  advancing  foe. 

There  was  no  pause  in  the  battle.  The  roar  of  the 
strife  was  ever  heard.  The  artillery  bellowed  and  thun- 
dered, and  the  dreadful  echoes  went  sweeping  down 
the  river,  and  the  paths  were  filled  with  the  dying  and 
the  dead. 

The  sound  was  deafening,  the  tumult  indescribable. 

Xo  life  was  worth  a  farthing ;  for  he  wlio  lifted  his 
musket  this  moment  fell  the  next,  a  stiffened  corpse. 

Yonder  a  fresh  regiment  rushed  bravely  forward,  and 
ere  they  had  gone  twenty  yards,  a  charge  of  grape  sent 
the  foremost  men  bleeding  to  the  earth. 

Whole  heaps  of  corpses  lay  upon  the  murmuring 
ground,  and  fixed  eyes  stared  at  the  surrounding  strife, 
with  the  awful  stare  of  death. 

Wild  mockery  !  dreadful  vision  !     But  who  cared  ? 

Death  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  but  to  be  met  with 
indifference,  come  when  it  might. 

Death  was  in  the  air,  and  bloomed  like  a  poison-plant 
on  every  foot  of  soil. 


siiiLOii.       •  143 

During  Sunday  afternoon,  eleven  or  twelve  of  the 
Union  regiments,  after  figiiting  bravely  for  two  hours, 
were  thrown  into  disorder  by  a  number  of  shells  M'hieh 
burst  above  and  around  them  ;  and  at  the  same  moment 
a  Rebel  battery  opened  uj^on  tliem,  at  a  distance  of  half 
a  mile,  with  terrible  devastation. 

They  could  not  endure  the  murderous  fire.  They 
turned  and  lied,  and  several  of  their  officers  endeavored 
in  vain  to  rally  them.  They  were  utterly  panic-stricken 
at  first,  and  they  would  have  run  if  the  Infernal  Pit  had 
opened  before  their  liurrjang  feet. 

No  appeal,  no  censure,  affected  them.  Many  threw 
away  their  arms,  and  sped  as  a  country  school-boy, 
who  thinks  he  has  seen  a  ghost  in  the  village  church- 
yard. 

A  number  of  fiying  soldiers,  having  recovered  from 
their  alarm  and  regained  their  pride,  returned  to  their 
posts,  fighting  more  bravely  than  before,  to  wipe  out 
the  stain  ;  but  the  greater  pait  ran  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  human  voice,  even  crossing  the  river  and  going 
to  Savannah. 

As  the  sun  was  sinking  towards  the  west,  General 
Buell's  column,  so  anxiously  expected,  so  needful  in 
the  great  emergency,  appeared  on  tlie  opposite  side  of 
the  river,  and  the  enemy  redoubled  his  efforts  to  insure 
our  defeat ;  knowing  that  on  the  morrow  our  numbers 
would  nearly  equal  his  own  ;  and  that  he  must  put 
the  last  remnant  of  strength  into  the  contest. 

The  Rebels  did  so.  They  summoned  a  large  portion 
of  their  reserve,  and  fell  with  unexampled  fury  upon 
our  ranks,  shouting  like  madmen,  and  striving  in  eveiy 


144  FOUR   YEARS  IN   SECESSIA. 

possible  way  to  extend  the  panic  -with  which  the  un- 
fortunate twelve  regiments  liad  bi'en  seized. 

Every  one  of  their  cannons  seemed  at  play ;  every 
musket  performing  its  natural  office.  The  resoiirces  of 
their  generals  were  exhausted.  Tliey  told  their  troops 
the  condition  of  affairs;  that  that  was  the  golden  op- 
portunity ;  that  all  depended  upon  winning  a  victory 
before  the  darkness  should  compel  a  suspension  of  hos- 
tilities. 

The  Rebels  swept  like  an  avalanche  upon  the  loyal 
troops,  and  the  shock  had  its  effect. 

Our  soldiers  wavered,  for  they  were  nearly  exhausted 
with  the  long,  hard  fight,  and  the  enemy's  fresh  forces 
gave  them  the  advantage.. 

Here  was  a  crisis,  and  General  Grant  rode  along  the 
whole  line,  amid  a  storm  of  balls,  and  encouraged  the 
men,  and  assured  them  that  if  they  held  out  until  the 
next  morning,  Buell,  with  his  thousands,  would  have 
crossed  the  river. 

His  brief  remarks  added  courage  to  many  a  faint  heart, 
and  strength  to  manj^  a  tired  arm  ;  and  our  ranks  fought 
with  a  desperate  and  invincible  spirit. 

Still  they  could  hardly  cope  ^vith  the  overpowering 
force  of  the  Rebels,  until  Colonel  Webster,  chief  of 
General  Grant's  staff,  planted  several  batteries,  and 
brought  them  to  bear  directly  upon  the  enemy's  right ; 
and  about  the  same  time,  the  gunboats  Lexington  and 
Taylor,  so  near  were  the  contending  armies  to  the  bank, 
opened  a  heavy  fire  upon  the  advancing  Rebels. 

The  foe  endeavored  heroically  to  endure  that  terrible 
double  fire  ;  but  his  columns  had  not  the  fortitude  to 


siiiLOii.  145 

stand  and  "be  mowed  down  b}-  Imndreds.     They  began 
to  wavtT  and  to  break. 

Beauregard  and  Johnston  attempted  to  liold  their  troops 
in  position,  and  they  exposed  themselves  most  recklessly 
to  prevent  them  from  falling  back,  but  to  no  purpose. 
Every  discharge  of  the  batteries,  every  roar  of  death  from 
the  gunboats,  sent  tlie  Rebel  regiments  reeling  to  tlie 
grave  ;  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  tliey  moved  back- 
ward, leaving  us  in  possession  of  all  the  ground  we  had 
occupied  in  the  morning. 

In  this  part  of  tlie  action.  General  Albert  Sj^dney  John- 
ston fell,  and  Beauregard  was  very  sligiitly  Avounded  in 
the  left  arm. 

*  -:f  *  * 

During  the  night.  General  Nelson's  division  of  Buell's 
aniiy  reached  the  battle-field,  and  early  in  the  morning 
the  engagement  was  renewed,  Nelson  occup3'ing  the  left, 
and  General  Wallace  the  right. 

Nelson  and  Wallace  opened  upon  the  enemy  with  a 
heavy  fire,  and  caused  him  to  fiill  back.  For  several 
hours  the  victory  seemed  to  be  ours  ;  but  about  half-past 
ten  o'clock  the  Rebels,  who  must  have  been  re-enforced, 
made  a  series  of  gallant  charges,  and  caused  our  troops  to 
retire  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  pouring  most  fearful  volleys 
of  musketry  into  our  ranks. 

Again  the  prospect  looked  dark,  and  thousands  of 
hearts  felt  alamif^d,  not  for  themselves,  but  for  the  for- 
tunes of  the  great  battle  on  which  so  much  depended — 
perhaps  the  salvation  of  the  Republic,  and  the  happiness 
of  unborn  generations. 

General  Buell  had  crossed  the  river  below  the  point 


146  FOUR   YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

where  Nelson  had,  and  at  this  juncture  came  up  with 
fresli  troops,  and  lianked  the  ent^niy,  and  captured  a 
number  of  pieces  of  artillery. 

The  Rebels  here  made  a  terrible  charge  to  recover  their 
loss,  but  they  were  unsuccessful. 

They  wavered  and  were  driven  back — rallied,  and 
made  a  final  attempt,  but  were  repulsed;  Buell's  forces 
meeting  and  engaging  them  in  a  splendid  manner. 

Our  army  saw  their  advantage,  and  followed  it  up  in 
magnificent  style  ;  and  from  that  hour  the  Rebels  seemed 
to  have  lost  fiiith  in  themselves. 

They  could  not  be  rallied,  though  their  commanders 
hallooed  themselves  hoarse.  They  could  not  keep  their 
ground,  and  they  slowly  retired,  witli  their  faces  still  to 
the  Unionists,  and  fighting,  though  somewhat  languidly. 

Their  hope  and  energy  appeared  to  diminish  steadil}^ 
and  they  soon  gave  evidence  of  demoralization,  and, 
before  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  retreated  with  celerity, 
pursued  towards  Corinth  by  six  thousand  of  our  cavalry. 


OFF  FORT   PILLOW.  147 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

OFF     FORT     PILLOW. 

Ravages  of  the  Musquitos. — Their  Secession  Proclivities. — Battles  between  the 
Insects  and  Correspondents. — Anecdote  of  General  Pope. — Discovery  of  an 
unexpei.ted  OfiBcial. 

The  countless  musquitos  in  the  vicinity  of  Fort  PiL 
low,  during  the  month  of  April,  1862,  must  have  had 
strong  Secession  sympathies  ;  they  certainly  were  hitter 
enemies  of  the  Nationalists,  and  phlebotomized  tliem 
without  mercy.  Tliey  never  were  so  numerous  and 
venomous  "before  at  tliat  season  of  the  year,  in  tliat  lati- 
tude, and  tliey  bled  our  soldiers  and  sailors  as  perse- 
veringly  as  did  ever  Dr.  Sangrado  his  system-murdered 
patients. 

Those  annoying  insects  were  always  vigilant,  and  had 
the  honor  of  extracting  the  earliest  sanguinary  Huid 
during  the  bombardment. 

They  had  no  fear  of  gunboats  or  mortars,  artillery  or 
bayonets.  They  recognized  no  distinction  in  rank,  at- 
tacking Commodores  and  Captains,  Bohemians  and  Briga- 
diers alike. 

One  hundred  did  I  slay,  even  while  writing  half  a 
dozen  lines  ;  and  yet  there  were  thousands  to  supply 
their  places.  They  seemed  as  anxious  to  die  as  the  Reb- 
els pretend  to  be. 

The  difference  between  them  was,  they  did  die,  and 


148  FOUR   YEARS  IN   SECESSIA. 

the  Rebels  did  not — wlien  they  could  help  it.  Mortifying 
reflection  to  vain-glorious  Man !  Musquitos  are  braver 
than  the  three  hundred  devoted  Lacedaemonians  who 
fought  and  fell  beneath  the  shade  of  Xerxes'  arrows. 

Sleep  Avas  often  an  impossibility,  on  the  Fleet  or  in 
camp  ;  and  a  number  of  the  Bohemians  rose  one  morning 
with  their  optics  so  nearly  closed,  from  the  attack  of  the 
musquitos,  that  the  poor  fellows  would  have  been  en- 
tirely excusable  if  they  had  taken  what,  in  bar-room 
parlance,  is  classically  called,  an  eye-opener. 

Confound  the  musquitos  !  I  used  to  exclaim  every  min- 
ute. They  were  the  pests  of  the  South,  and  of  summer, 
and,  like  the  Thane  of  Cawdor,  did  murder  sleep  ! 

Every  thing  was  very  dull  about  Pillow  the  first  two 
or  three  weeks,  with  the  exception  of  the  constant  battles 
between  the  Bohemians  and  the  musquitos ;  the  latter 
having  declared  unrelenting  and  ceaseless  war  against  the 
knights  of  the  pen. 

The  strife  went  on  without  intermission,  day  and  night ; 
the  musquitos  relieving  each  other  jmnctually,  and 
mounting  guard  eveiy  five  seconds. 

AVe  had  no  bars  on  the  fleet  (and  none  in  the  Missis- 
sippi, for  the  matter  of  that),  and  we  were  therefore 
victims  to  the  remorseless  cruelty  of  the  venomous  insects 
at  all  times  and  in  all  places. 

The  Correspondents,  as  I  have  said,  often  arose  in 
the  morning  with  their  visuals  so  swelled,  from  the  bites 
of  the  winged  pests,  that  they  looked  as  if  they  had  been 
taking  a  ftw  first  lessons  in  the  "noble  and  manly  art 
of  self-defense,"  from  the  Tipton  Slasher  or  the  Benicia 
Boy. 


OFF   FORT  riLLOW.  149 

I  pitied  the  poor  fellows,  Init  the  fact  that  my  own 
sufferings  were  even  greater  than  tlieirs,  prevented  that 
complete  exercise  of  commiseration  which  an  intact 
epidermis  would  have  insured. 

The  musquitos  m  that  vicinity  must  have  been  of  the 
true  Secession  order,  being  opposed — as  the  Richmond 
papers  used  to  be — to  reading  and  writing ;  believing 
it  conducive  to  error  and  disobedience. 

We  never  took  up  a^  book  or  commenced  any  manu- 
script but  the  musquitos  attacked  us  in  force,  and  showed 
the  most  desperate  determination  to  drive  us  from  oui 
labor  or  our  lore. 

The  reason  of  this  was,  I  conjecture,  that  the  musqui- 
tos hated  writing  because  they  themselves  could  not 
write,  and  they  therefore  made  their  mark — most  effect- 
ually, too,  as  my  crimson- spotted  hands  and  face  fully 
and  convincingly  and  painfully  attested. 

*  *  *  * 

I  heard,  while  at  Pillow,  an  anecdote  of  General  Pope 
— an  officer  of  abilitj^,  but  sometimes  a  very  unpleasant 
man,  with  a  pompous  and  hectoring  manner — which  Avill 
bear  repetition.  AVliile  at  his  head-quarters,  the  General 
was  approached  by  a  rather  small,  plain-looking,  antl  en- 
tirely unassuming  man,  in  citizen's  attire,  with  the  ques- 
tion :   "  Are  you  General  Pope,  sir?" 

"That  is  my  name,"  was  the  answer,  in  rather  a 
repelling  tone.  • 

• '  I  would  like  to  see  you,  then,  on  a  matter  of  business." 
■'Call   on    my  Adjutant,   sir.    He    will    aft-ange    any 
business  you  may  have." 


150  FOUR   YEARS  IX   SECESSIA, 

"Bat  I  wish  to  liave  a  personal  conversation  with 
you." 

"  See  my  Adjutant,"  in  an  authoritative  voice. 

"But—" 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  to  see  my  Adjutant?  Trouble  me 
no  more,  sir  ;"  and  Pope  was  about  walking  away. 

"  My  name  is  Scott,  General,"  quietly  remarked  the 
small,  plain  man. 

"Confound  you!  What  do  I  care,"  thundered  Pope, 
in  a  rising  passion,  "if  your  name  is  Scott,  or  Jones,  or 
Jenkins,  or  Snooks,  for  the  matter  of  that?  See  my 
Adjutant,  I  tell  you,  fellow  !     Leave  my  presence  !" 

"I  am,"  continued  the  quiet  man,  in  his  quiet  way, 
"the  Assistant  Secretary  of  War,  and — " 

What  a  revolution  those  simple  words  made  in  the 
General' s  appearance  and  manner  ! 

His  angry,  haughty,  domineering  air  was  dispelled  in 
a  moment,  and  a  flush  of  confusion  passed  over  his 
altered  face. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Scott,  I  had  no  idea  whom  I 
was  addressing.  Pray  be  seated  ;  I  shall  be  happy  to 
grant  you  an  interview  at  an}"  time." 

Possibly  a  very  close  observer  might  have  seen  a  faint, 
half-contemptuous  smile  on  the  Secretary' s  lips  ;  though 
he  said  nothing,  but  began  to  unfold  his  business  with- 
out comment. 

After  that  unique  interview.  Pope  and  the  Assistant 
Secretary  were  very  frequently  together,  and  I  venture 
to  say  the  latter  had  no  reason  subsequently  to  complain 
of  the  General's  rudeness. 


LIFE   ON   THE   FLOTILLA.  151 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

LIFE     ON    THE    FLOTILLA. 

A  Profane  Captain. — Piety  of  Commodore  Foote. — Interruption  of  Relij^ious 
Service. — Easter  Sunday  on  the  Flag-ship. — Horrible  Persecutions  of  Unionists 
in  Tennessee  and  Arkansas. — A  Loyal  Man  Crucified. — Cold-Blooded  Mur- 
ders in  the  South. 

Divi:ffE  Service  was  held  upon  the  Flotilhi,  off  Fort 
Pillow,  every  Sabbath,  and  even  some  of  the  transports 
observed  the  day,  though  after  a  rather  secular  fashion. 

An  old  steamboat  Captain,  for  many  years  engaged  in 
the  Cincinnati  and  Southern  trade,  was  in  the  habit  of 
going  about  the  vessel  every  morning,  and  saying  to  his 

men  :   "D your  sinful  souls,  I  want  you  to  come  to 

prayers  to-day,  by ;' '  and,  after  services,  adding  to 

delinquents:   "Why  the  and  weren't  you  on 

hand  to-day  to  hear  the  Bible  read?    You'll  go  to 

surely,  and, j^ou,  you  ought  to,  too,  by ." 

It  is  deeply  to  be  regretted  that  that  man' s  external 
piety  did  not  improve  his  mode  of  exhortation  ;  but 
this  was  one  of  the  countless  instances  in  which  a  time- 
honored  custom  was  observed  after  the  spirit  that  might 
have  made  it  sacred  had  departed. 

Quite  different  from  the  profane  steamboat  Captain  was 
Commodore  Foote,  who  seemed  to  regard  the  observa- 
tion of  Sunday,  when  it  was  at  all  possible,  as  quite  es- 
sential to  the  discipline  of  his  officers  and  men. 


152  YOrii   YEAES  IN   SECESSIA. 

He  read  the  Scriptures  regularly  and  punetually  on 
tlie  first  day  of  every  -week,  and  summoned  the  entire 
crew  of  the  Benton  to  his  religious  lectures. 

Most  of  the  sailors  were  addicted  to  falling  asleep,  and 
frequently  snored  so  loud  as  to  disturb  the  solemnity  of 
the  occasion.  The  Commodore  took  no  notice  of  their 
drowsiness,  believing,  perhaps,  with  some  of  the  theo- 
logical metaphysicians,  that  when  rapt  in  slumber  they 
could  commit  no  sin. 

It  certainly  is  a  virtue  of  many  religious  exercises,  that, 
if  they  do  not  convince,  they  cause  sleep,  and  thus  give 
rest  to  the  body,  though  they  furnish  no  consolation  to 
the  soul.  Goldsmith's  familiar  line  might,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  often  be  so  travestied  as  to  read  with  truth  : 

And  those  who  went  to  pray  remained  to  sleep. 

The  Commodore  was  not  so  painfully  pious  as  to  allow 
Sunday  to  interfere  with  the  obligations  of  his  secular 
position. 

While  reading,  at  Island  No.  10,  this  extract  from  the 
Epistle  of  Paul  to  the  Ephesians  : 

"Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  who  hath  blessed  us  with  all  spiritual  blessings  in 
heavenly  places  in  Christ.  According  as  He  hath  chosen 
us  in  Him  before  the  foundation  of  the  world,  that  we 
should  be  holy,  and  without  blame  before  Him  in  love  ; 
having  predestinated  us  unto  the  adoption  of  children 
by  Jesus  Christ." 

At  this  moment  the  ofRcer  of  the  deck  reported  a  sus- 
picious craft  coming  round  the  head  of  the  Island,  where- 
upon the  Commodore  ordered  the  stern  guns  to  be  run 


LIFE   ON   TUE   FLOTILLA.  153 

out,  and  closed  tlie  Sacred  Volume  and  the  service  at 
once,  remarking  that  the  reading  would  be  continued  on 
a  mor(>  ausjiicious  occasion. 
#  *  *  *  ^ 

Each  Sunday  the  Commodore  read  from  the  sixty- 
fourth  Psalm,  in  a  deeply  impressive  manner : 

'"They  encourage  themselves  in  an  evil  matter:  they 
commune  of  laying  snares  privily ;  they  say,  Who  shall 
see  them  ? 

"They  search  out  iniquities;  they  accomplish  a  dili- 
gent search :  both  the  inward  thought  of  every  one  of 
them,  and  the  heart,  is  deep. 

"But  God  shall  shoot  at  them  with  an  arrow;  sud- 
denl)^  shall  they  be  wounded." 

Doubtless  the  Commodore  referred  to  the  Rebels  ;  but, 
as  if  not  satisfied  with  that  apt  quotation,  he  read  these 
even  more  appropriate  lines  : 

"They  are  all  gone  out  of  the  way,  they  are  tog(^ther 
become  unprofitable  ;  there  is  none  that  doeth  good,  no, 
not  one. 

"  Their  throat  is  an  open  sepulchre  ;  with  their  tongues 
they  have  used  deceit ;  the  poison  of  asps  is  under  their 
lips  :  whose  mouth  is  full  of  cursing  and  bitterness  : 

"Their  feet  are  swift  to  shed  blood  : 

"  Destruction  and  misery  are  in  their  ways  :  And  the 
way  of  peace  have  they  not  known  :  there  is  no  fear  of 
God  before  their  eyes." 

So  pertinent  were  these  quotations  that  the  sailors  did 
not  sleep,  or  even  nod,  during  the  reading,  which  was 
impressive  and  eloquent,  from  the  earnest  voice,  the 
serene  face,  and  the  sincere  manner  of  tlie  gallant  Com- 


154  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

niO(lor(%  \y1io  ■svas,  in  tlie  best  sense,  a  gentkiran  and  a 
true  Cliristian. 

*  *  *  * 

Several  of  iis  "vvent  up  tlie  river,  toward  the  latter  part 
of  April,  in  a  sldff,  a  short  distance,  to  the  half-submerged 
house  of  a  Union  family  named  Armstronjz,  r(.^siding  on 
the  Tennessee  shore.  They  >  were  from  Ohio,  but  had 
lived  in  Lauderdale  County  for  four  or  five  years,  and 
were  far  more  intelligent  and  civilized  than  the  class  that 
usually  vegetates  along  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  from 
Cairo  to  Yicksburg. 

We  had  a  long  conversation  with  the  family,  who  had 
had  an  excellent  opportunity  to  witness  the  progress  of 
the  Rebellion  in  Tennessee,  and  they  gave  a  fearful  ac- 
count of  the  outrages  that  had  been  practiced  in  the 
name  of  the  Rebel  Government. 

Immediately  after  the  State  was  declared,  in  spite  of 
the  expressed  opposition  of  the  people,  out  of  the  Union, 
anned  bands  of  marauders  and  outlaws,  generally  from 
Shelby  County,  began  to  abuse  and  rob  the  citizens  of 
Western  Tennessee. 

They  impressed  all  the  m^en  they  could  find  into  the 
Rebel  service,  upon  pain  of  death ;  and  the  family  assured 
me  a  number  of  loyal  citizens  were  hanged  for  no  other 
reason  than  for  their  attachment  to  the  Union. 

Mrs.  Armstrong  says  she  knew  six  men  who  were  exe- 
cuted ;  and  that  in  one  instance  a  poor  fellow  who  had 
been  coerced  into  the  Secession  army^  and  had  twice 
deserted,  was  captured,  carried  oft*  in  the  night,  and 
actually  crucified  ;  spikes  being  driven  through  his  hands 
and  feet ;  thus  fastening  him  to  a  tree,  and  leaving  him  to 
a  lingering  and  horrible  death. 


LIFE   ON   THE   FLOTILLA.  155 

The  unfortunate  victim  was  gagged,  that  his  cries  might 
not  call  any  one  to  his  assistance  or  relief ;  and  nearly  a 
week  had  elapsed  before  he  was  discovered.  lie  was 
still  alive,  but  hunger,  exposure,  and  pain  had  so  ex- 
hausted him,  that,  though  removed  to  the  house  of  a 
neighbor,  and  carefully  nursed,  he  died  the  second  day 
after  his  release. 

In  addition  to  that,  men  suspected  of  disaffection  were 
assassinated  by  outlaws  so  disguised  as  to  be  irrecogni- 
zable  ;  and  it  was  quite  common  for  Unionists  to  be  called 
up  at  the  dead  hour  of  night,  and  shot  when  they  went 
to  th(^^  Avindow  or  door  to  determine  the  nature  of  tho- 
summons. 

In  Arkansas,  too,  in  Mississippi,  Crittenden,  and  other- 
river  counties,  robbery,  tarring  and  feathering,  assassina- 
tions, and  hanging  were  among  the  favorite  amusements 
of  the  inhabitants  of  that  highly  enlightened  State. 
*  *  *  *^ 

The  extent  of  the  outrages  perpetrated  in  Secessia 
against  Union  men  will  never  be  known^  and  hundreds 
of  persons  have  mysteriously  disappeared  whose  fate 
will  never  be  explained,  but  who  were  doubtlessly  re- 
moved through  violent  means  by  the  advocates  of  the 
Rebellion. 

11 


156  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA- 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

FEATURES     OF     SECESSIA. 

Melancholy  Suicide  of  a  Slave. — Triumph  of  the  American  Eagle. — Reminiscence 
of  John  A.  Murrell — His  Decease  a  Loss  to  the  Secession  Cause. 

While  lying  off  Fort  Pillow,  a  Union  man,  who  had 
"been  driven  from  Memphis  some  months  hefore,  told  me 
of  a  sad  tragedy  that  had  occurred  in  the  city  while  he 
was  there.  A  finely  formed  and  rather  intelligent  mulatto 
had  heen  taken  to  Memphis  from  Hardaman  County, 
having  been  torn,  against  his  most  urgent  entreaties  and 
earnest  prayers,  from  his  family,  to  be  sold  to  some 
Louisiana  or  Texas  planter.  The  poor  fellow,  who 
seemed  so  overcome  with  grief  as  to  be  unconscious  of 
externals,  was  placed  upon  the  block,  and  knocked  down 
to  a  cotton  planter  residing  near  Galveston. 

After  the  sale  had  been  made,  and  the  papers  signed, 
the  mulatto  seemed,  for  the  first  time,  to  fully  realize  his 
situation.  Having  been  ordered  to  follow  his  new  master, 
ho  walked  quietly  along  until  he  was  separated  from  the 
■crowd,  when  he  suddenly  drew  a  pistol,  concealed  about 
his  person,  and  blew  out  his  brains. 

The  slave  could  not  endure  the  idea  of  separation  from 
his  family,  and  preferred  death  to  eternal  divorce.  No 
one  was  shocked  ;  no  one  pitied  him,  or  cared  for  the 
cause  of  the  suicide.  He  was  only  a  "  nigger ;"  but  to  the 
new  owner  he  had  represented  so  much  money,  and 


FEATURES   OF  SECESSIA.  157 

therefore  the  planter  was  very  mad,  and  swore  exces- 
sively over  the  mutilated  corpse  of  the  slave. 

*  *  .         *  * 

An  incident  occurred  on  the  transport  John  H.  Dickey, 
while  I  was  on  the  Fleet,  which  would  indicate  that  the 
American  Eagle — at  least  one  of  the  family — understands 
the  importance  of  the  position  assigned  him  in  this  coun- 
try as  the  sjTTibol  of  Liberty  and  Independence. 

The  clerk  of  the  boat  had  been  presented  with  an  eagle, 
and  kept  him  in  the  engine-room  below,  tied  to  a 
stanchion  with  a  strong  cord. 

Soon  after  the  bird  was  placed  there,  a  coop  full  of 
chickens,  among  them  three  game-cocks,  was  captured  on 
a  deserted  farm  on  the  Arkansas  shore,  and  removed  to 
the  locality,  and  the  roosters  given  the  freedom  of  the  deck. 

The  Secession  cocks  immediately  began  to  strut  about 
in  much  the  same  style  as  the  vulgar  Gascons  assuming  to 
represent  the  chivalry  of  the  South,  and  crowed  loudly 
and  frequently,  greatly  to  the  disgust  of  the  eagle,  which 
eyed  them  very  closely,  and  was  evidently  attempting  to 
exercise  his  patience  to  the  fullest  possible  extent. 

The  cocks  crowed  louder  and  louder,  and  walked  hy 
the  bird  as  if  they  regarded  him  as  an  inferior. 

The  eagle  began  to  lose  his  temper,  and,  ej^ing  the 
feathery  blusterers  more  and  more  keenly,  commenced  to 
peck  at  his  hempen  fetters  in  an  excited  manner. 

The  roosters  still  crowed  and  strutted,  and  strutted  and 
crowed  ;  and  while  they  were  at  the  hight  of  their  pom- 
posity, the  eagle,  which  had  released  himself,  flew  at 
them,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  three  headless  roosters 
lay  bleeding  amid  a  quantity  of  feathers. 


158  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Tlie  eagle  had  resented  the  indignity  to  himself,  and  the 
insult  ojffered  him  as  a  representative  of  the  Nation,  and 
had  taught  the  insolent  Rebel  cocks  the  lesson  the  grand 
army  of  the  North  is  daily  teaching  to  Secessia, 

The  turn  of  the  Gallic  cock  may  come  next.  Let  him 
beware ! 

*  *  *  * 

During  my  sojourn  near  Fort  Pillo-w,  I  went  several 
times  over  to  Arkansas,  in  the  vicinity  of  Osceola,  noted 
as  the  place  where  the  first  Rebel  flag  was  raised  in  the 
State. 

When  we  remember  that  Mississippi  County,  of  which 
Osceola  is  the  capital,  was  part  of  the  theater  of  John  A. 
Murreir  s  opei-ations,  we  cannot  but  acknowledge  a  singu- 
lar aptness  in  the  elevation  there  of  the  symbol  of  treason. 

No  doubt  the  people  of  the  State  missed  him  greatly, 
and  believed  he  died  before  his  time.  He  should  have 
lived  to  the  days  of  the  Jeff.  Davis  conspiracy,  to  receive 
the  honors  of  Secessia  for  his  past  deeds,  and  encourage- 
ment for  the  continuation  of  liis  career.  He  was  fitted  by 
nature,  education,  habits,  and  association  for  a  Seces- 
sionist, and  had  he  not  been  one  of  the  prominent  Rebel 
generals,  he  would  have  been  at  least  a  member  of  the 
Cabinet  at  Richmond. 

He  could  steal,  burn,  and  murder  as  well  as  the  best  of 
them  ;  and  in  such  threefold  capacity  lie  the  power  and 
prestige  of  the  cause  he  would  have  been  proud  to  advo- 
cate, and  on  which  even  he  might  have  shed  at  least  a  ray 
of  damning  glory. 


MAYING  IN  ARKANSAS.  159 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

MAYING   IN   ARKANSAS. 

A  Beautiful  Day. — Prodigality  of  Nature. — Assault  of  Gnats  and  Sand-Flies. — 
Ridiculous  Adventures. — An  Altered  Physiognomy. — Saturnine  Reflections. — 
A  New  Jeremiad. 

The  1st  of  May  was  bright,  balmy,  and  beautiful,  but 
so  very  dull  on  the  Flotilla,  that  another  Correspondent 
and  myself  concluded  to  make  a  short  excursion  into  the 
region  of  Arkansas  1}' ing  opposite  Fort  Pillow,  by  way 
of  celebrating  the  occasion. 

The  very  idea  of  going  Maying,  as  the  school-girls 
style  it,  in  the  Patagonia  of  America,  was  ludicrously 
absurd  ;  and  for  that  reason  we  selected  it  as  the  field  of 
our  vernal  recreation. 

■  The  day,  as  I  have  said,  was  beautiful,  and  the  violets 
of  the  heavens  bloomed  in  their  softest  blueness,  while 
the  gentle  zephyrs  crossed  the  Mississippi  on  wings  of 
balm.  The  birds  sang  more  sweetly  than  was  their  wont 
to  the  morning  sunbeams  ;  and  the  sunbeams  bathed  their 
leafy  homes  in  glory. 

Delicious  dreams  were  in  the  fragrant  atmosphere,  and 
a  spiritual  voluptuousness  sighed  through  the  love- 
whispering  trees. 

All  that  was  very  generous  in  Nature  ;  but  so  much 
aesthetic  wealth  was  entirely  lost  on  Arkansas,  where 
Art  is  regarded  as  an  Abolition  innovation,  and  the  Ideal 
supposed  to  mean  an  unfair  game  of  draw-poker. 


IGO  FOUR   YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

Wliat  a  sad  waste,  thouglit  we,  of  Beauty,  when  we 
saw  the  blue  arch  bending  in  cliaimfulness  over  the 
Bwamps  of  the  beniglited  State,  and  lieard  tlie  choristers 
of  the  groves  chanting  to  the  scattered  woods  and  the 
unsightly  shore ! 

We  crossed  the  river  in  a  skiff,  exhausting  ourselves 
and  blistering  our  unhardened  hands,  and  were  soon  a 
short  distance  below  Osceola,  looking  round  for  a  spot  of 
dry  land  whereon  to  recline,  and  wondering  what  Nature 
designed  when  she  created  Arkansas,  which  I  have 
always  regarded  as  a  mistake. 

We  found,  after  a  long  and  diligent  search,  and  no 
little  wading,  a  spot  of  green  large  enough  for  two 
graves,  and  looking  as  if  they  were  such. 

A  few  sickly  violets  grew  among  the  tufts  of  grass,  and 
the  poor  little  flowers  looked  up  to  us  timidly  and 
shrinkingly,  as  if  they  were  trying  to  apologize,  but 
could  find  no  excuse,  for  blooming  in  such  a  place. 

Tiny  blue-eyed  tremblers !  We  plucked  them  from 
their  stems,  and  knew  it  would  be  happiness  for  them  to 
die  someAvhere  else.  They  exhaled  their  gratitude  in 
sweetness,  and  we  said:  "As  flowers  were  found  on 
Nero's  tomb,  so  are  there  violets  even  in  Arkansas." 

Not  a  minute  had  we  reclined  our  fatigued  forms  before 
the  sand-flies  and  gnats  assailed  us  in  force  ;  and  before 
we  could  effect  our  escape,  we  looked  as  if  we  had  just 
recovei-ed  from  an  attack  of  the  small-pox. 

One  of  my  optics  was  closed,  and  my  companion's  lips 
had  assumed  the  proportions  of  a  full-blooded  African's. 

The  winged  pests  covered  us  in  swarms,  and  for  five 
minutes  our  motions  resembled  the  wild  movements  of 


MAYING  IN  ARKANSAS.  161 

dancing  Bervises.  Indeed,  I  doubt  if  the  Dervisea 
ever  danced  as  we  did. 

With  our  swinging  limbs  and  ceaseless  gyrations,  we 
must  have  seemed  like  human  windmills,  turning  to 
every  point  of  the  compass  at  the  same  time. 

We  leaped  ourselves  oat  of  our  boots  and  hats  and 
coats  ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  his  bewilderment,  I  found 
my  associate  endeavoring  to  put  on  a  cotton- wood  tree, 
and  myself  trying  to  draw  a  large  swamp  over  my 
burning  feet,  and  cover  my  head  with  a  mud-bank. 

After  a  while,  we  began  to  grow  used  to  it ;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  seriously  arrived  at  the  conclusion,  that,  how- 
ever interesting  such  excursions  might  be  to  the  natives, 
they  were  not  altogether  fascinating  to  civilized  beings. 

So  we  went  off  precipitately  through  marshes  and 
morasses,  breathing  gnats  and  sand-flies  as  if  tliey  had 
all  our  lives  composed  our  natural  atmosphere  ;  trying  to 
wipe  off  the  blood  that  had  started  from  our  faces  with 
our  boots,  and  to  cover  our  pedal  extremities  with  our 
handkerchiefs. 

While  we  were  struggling  along  like  men  under  the 
pressure  of  forty  cocktails,  we  heard  a  sharp  rattle,  and 
looking  before  us  with  what  eyes  the  gnats  had  left  us, 
we  saw  two  huge  snakes  coiled,  and  ready  to  spring. 

Rattlesnakes  had  no  terrors  for  us  then.  We  were 
desperate. 

At  that  moment  I  believe  I  would  have  walked  into 
the  roaring  mouths  of  a  battery,  or  even  up  to  the  matri- 
monial altar,  without  shrinking. 

We  regar(^ed  rattlesnakes  as  symbols  of  Secession, 
and  we  knew  the  sandflies  and  gnats  were  of  the  Rebel 


1G2  FOUR  YEARS  IN"  SECESSIA. 

tribe.  So  we  attacked  the  venomous  serpents  with  our 
boots  ;  beating  to  the  right  and  left,  quite  indifferent 
wliether  we  struck  tliem,  or  they  struck  us. 

"We  had  leather  pyrotechnics,  boot  Catherine  wheels, 
for  a  short  tune,  when  the  hateful  rattling  ceased,  and  we 
saw  tlie  snakes  were  dead. 

"We  thought  we  had  killed  them  ;  but  I  know  now  the 
flies  and  gnats  had  swarmed  down  their  throats  and 
strangled  them. 

Little  inclination  had  we  to  investigate  the  matter,  but 
rushed  on  through  the  swamps,  and  at  last  reached  a 
skiff — whetlier  ours  or  not  was  a  question  of  indifference 
— and,  leaping  into  it,  rowed  over  the  river  again. 

After  we  had  reached  the  Tennessee  shore,  we  fell  into 
the  back  water,  and  ultimately  got  on  board  the  Flotilla, 
with  one  boot  between  us,  no  hats,  physiognomies  that 
would  have  set  Lavater  mad  to  contemplate,  and  bear- 
ing a  close  resemblance  to  the  horribly  tattooed  faces  so 
greatly  in  favor  with  the  New  Zealanders. 

I  looked  into  the  glass — a  thing  I  rarely  do,  for  I  hate 
repulsive  spectacles — and,  as  far  as  my  defective  eyesight 
could  determine,  I  thought  I  discovered  a  striking  resem- 
blance between  myself  and  the  Egyptian  Sphynx,  and 
that  I  appeared  as  if  I  might  be  a  brother  of  the  grotesque 
figure  with  four  heads,  by  which  the  Brahmins  sometimes 
represent  their  chief  deity. 

However  hideous,  I  looked  no  worse  than  I  felt,  and  I 
immediately  celebrated  my  Maying  in  Arkansas  by  going 
into  full  mourning  of  wet  towels  and  bread-and-milk 
poultices,  and  was  afterwards  mistaken  by  gome  intimate 
acquaintances  for  an  Ojibeway  Indian,  or  the  Calvinistic 


MAYING  IN  ARKANSAS.  1G3 

Devil,  escaped  from  the  diseased  mind  of  a  believer  in 
the  moral  effect  of  eternal  brimstone. 

I  have  seen  Arkansas  since  that  occasion ;  but  I  can- 
not say  I  regard  it  as  fondly  as  Leander  did  the  shores  of 
Abydos,  or  Manfred  the  vision  of  Astarte. 

I  marvel  much  whether  Job  would  not  have  blas- 
phemed had  he  ever  gone  to  Mississippi  county  on  a  May 
excursion.  To  be  afflicted  with  boils  is  bad  enough  ;  but 
to  be  besieged  by  Arkansas  gnats  is  absolutely  beyond 
endurance  ;  and  I  know  the  man  of  ITz  could  not  and 
would  not  have  borne  it  stoically. 

Talk  of  straining  at  gnats.  Who  would  not  strain  at 
them  in  my  case  ?  Rather  than  not  do  so,  I  would  take 
a  contract  to  swallow  all  the  camels — including  the  con- 
comitants of  caravans — that  ever  crossed  the  Arabian 
Desert. 

In  the  midst  of  my  pain  and  poultices,  I  cried  out, 
after  the  manner  of  the  son  of  Hilkiah : 

0  that  I  had  a  deadly  enemy,  and  I  were  a  million  of 
gnats,  such  as  are  found  in  Arkansas  ! 

O  that  Arkansas  hung  by  one  silken  strand  over  the 
abyss  of  Topliet,  and  I  stood  near  with  a  glistening 
cheese-knife ! 

O  that  I  were  a  Rebel,  that  I  might  hang  myself  for 
the  good  of  my  country,  and  the  benefit  of  my  example 
to  my  fellow-traitors  ! 

O  that  I  were  a  Confederate  note !  Then  no  one 
would  touch  me — not  even  a  gnat. 

O  that  I  were  Jeff.  Davis  or  Wigfall !  Tlien  I  would  be 
deader  than  the  Ptolemies.  0  that  I  were  the  Rebellion  ! 
Then  Fd  be  a  thing  of  the  past. 


164  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

COMMODORE  FOOTE'S   FAREWELL. 

Impressive  Scene  on  the  Flag-Ship. — Address  of  the  Commodore. — Emotion  of 
the  Sailors. — Exciting  Tug-Chase. 

During  the  siege  of  Fort  Pillow,  the  condition  of  Com- 
modore A.  H.  Foote's  health  became  such  that  he  was 
compelled  to  ask  to  be  relieved,  and  toward  the  latter 
part  of  April,  1862,  he  was  superseded  by  Captain  Davis, 
of  the  Navy.  The  Commodore  had  for  several  months 
been  very  feeble,  and  was  often  unable  to  go  on  deck  for 
weeks  at  a  time. 

When  the  day  was  appointed  for  the  Commodore's  de- 
parture there  was  quite  a  stir  in  the  Fleet,  and,  as  he 
Was  greatly  beloved,  his  fellow-officers  and  the  sailors 
generally  deeply  regretted  the  loss  of  their  gallant 
commander. 

When  the  hour  came  for  his  going  up  tlie  river,  the 
deck  of  the  Benton  was  crowded  ;  and  as  the  Flag-officer 
appeared,  supported  by  Captain  Phelps,  he  was  greeted 
with  tremendous  huzzas.  Old  tars  s^vung  their  hats, 
and  not  a  few  of  their  eyes  moistened  when  they  looked, 
as  the}^  supposed,  upon  the  brave  old  Commodore  for 
the  last  time,  as  indeed  they  did. 

The  Flag-officer  paused  for  a  few  moments,  and,  re- 
moving his  cap,  gave  those  near  him  to  understand  he 
would  address  them. 


COMMODORE  FOOTE'S  FAREWELL.  165 

The  Commodore  said  lie  had  asked  to  be  relieved  be- 
cause he  knew  he  could  not  fill  his  office  in  his  existing 
condition  of  healtli.  He  was  willing  to  sacrifice  himself 
for  his  country,  but  he  knew  he  would  be  injuring  the 
cause  by  retaining  his  position  any  longer. 

He  had  been  growing  feebler  and  feebler  every  day, 
and  his  physician  had  often  told  him  he  could  not  im- 
prove while  exposed  to  the  excitements  of  the  service 
and  confined  to  the  Flag-ship.  He  complimented  the 
officers  and  crew  of  the  Benton  in  the  highest  manner. 
He  had  always  found  them  faithful,  brave,  and  true,  and 
had  fondly  hoped  to  remain  with  them  until  the  War  was 
over.  Tliat  he  could  not  was  a  cause  of  great  regret ; 
but  wherever  he  went,  he  would  bear  with  him  the  mem- 
ory of  the  Benton  and  her  gallant  crew,  and,  if  his  life 
were  spared,  he  Avould  often  revert  to  the  scenes  he  had 
passed  among  them  with  mingled  feelings  of  sorrow  and 
of  pride.  The  interview  Avas  impressive  and  affifcting, 
and  at  the  close  the  Commodore  could  hardly  speak  for 
emotion,  and  the  tears,  answered  by  many  who  were 
present,  stole  down  his  thin  and  pallid  cheeks. 

An  hour  after  this,  the  De  Soto  dropped  down  to  the 
Flagship  to  convey  the  Flag-officer  to  Cairo,  and  he  soon 
made  his  way,  with  the  assistance  of  Captains  Davis  and 
Phelps,  to  the  transport,  where  he  was  placed  in  a  chair 
on  the  guiirds,  looking  toward  the  crew  of  the  Benton, 
who  stood,  an  anxious  crowd,  upon  the  dfck. 

Tlie  Commodore  was  moved  deeply,  and  was  extreme- 
ly nervous,  laboring  greatly  to  conceal  his  agitation  ;  but 
he  could  not  succeed ;  and  he  placed  a  palm-leaf,  which 
he  carried,  before  his  face,  to  hide  the  gushing  tears. 


1G6  FOUR  YEAES  IX  SECESSIA. 

As  tlie  De  Soto  moved  away,  the  crew  pulled  off  tlieir 
caps  and  gave  tliree  loud  and  hearty  cheers,  at  which 
the  P'lag-officer  rose  from  liis  cliair  and  said,  in  an  ex- 
cited manner  and  in  broken  accents:  "God  bless  you 
all,  my  brave  companions  !  I  know  you  will  succeed  in 
all  you  undertake,  for  such  a  cause,  in  such  hands,  can 
not  fail.  I  had  hoped  to  stay  with  you.  I  had  ratlier 
died  with  you  than  go  away  ;  but  I  go  for  3-our  good  and 
the  good  of  my  country  ;  and  I  can  never  forget  you, — 
never,  never.  You  are  as  gallant  and  noble  men  as  ever 
fought  in  a  glorious  cause,  and  I  shall  remember  your 
merits  to  my  dying  day." 

I  thought  I  had  seen  the  Commodore  for  the  last  time  ; 
but  after  the  De  Soto  was  out  of  sight,  it  was  discovered 
the  mail  had  been  left  behind  ;  and  Captain  Phelps  or- 
dered the  Captain  of  a  tug  lying  alongside  to  take  the 
mail,  and  catch  the  transport  by  all  means. 

A  fellow-journalist  and  myself  leaped  on  board  the 
little  marine  Mercury,  and  were  immediately  steaming 
rapidly  up  the  river. 

Faster  and  faster  darted  the  tug  through  and  against 
the  strong  currents  of  the  Mississippi. 

Sixty  pounds  of  steam  was  all  the  boats  were  allowed 
under  ordinary  circumstances  to  carry  ;  but  in  ten  min- 
utes the  steam-gauge  marked  ninety. 

The  firemen  worked  nobl}^,  and  the  boilers  glowed 
anew.  The  little  boat  fairly  leaped  out  of  the  water ; 
throwing  the  wliite  spray  above  the  speeding  bow. 

One  hundred  and  ten,  twenty,  thirty,  declared  the 
steam-gauge ;  but  still  we  seemed  to  be  gaining  little  on 
the  De  Soto. 


COMMODORE  FOOTE'S  FAREWELL.  1G7 

**Fire  up,  boys!"  shouted  the  Captahi.  "We  have 
orders  to  catch  that  boat ;  and  TU  do  it  if  I  blow  the  tug 
to  h— 1." 

Open  flew  the  doors  of  the  furnace,  and  the  coal  crack- 
led in  the  blazing  fire ;  and  the  boilers  rang  shrilly  and 
ominously,  while  the  steam-gauge  went  up  to  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty.  The  tug  trembled  in  every  joint,  and 
radiated  heat  on  every  side,  as  we  darted  through  the 
sweeping  tide  of  the  mighty  river. 

One  hundred  and  seventy— and  eighty  and  ninety  pro- 
claimed the  steam-gauge  ;  and  as  we  went  flying  through 
the  water,  the  engineer  hallooed  :  "  She  won't  bear  much 
more.     Something  will  break  soon." 

"Let  it  break,"  shouted  the  Captain,  who  had  over- 
heard the  remark.  "Our  orders  are  to  catch  the  De 
Soto,  and  we  must  do  it.  Never  mind  the  tug.  We'll 
do  our  part.     If  she  don  t  do  hers,  that's  her  business." 

We  were  gaining  rapidly  on  the  boat.  We  saw  her 
smoke  rising  around  a  bend  ;  and  as  we  sped  after  her,  I 
observed  we  were  carrying  exactly  two  hundred  pounds 
of  steam. 

There  was  something  exciting  in  the  race  against  time. 
and  the  spice  of  danger  made  it  interesting. 

Gods,  how  hot  the  tiny  craft  was  !  how  swift  we  w^ent ! 
She  threw  out  heat  as  a  house  on  fire.  Every  joint 
shook  ;  every  seam  cracked  ;  every  square  inch  throbbed 
under  the  high  pressure  of  the  chained  vapors  that 
seemed  burning  to  discharge  their  painful  deaths  upon 
the  slender  crew. 

The  tug  ran  like  an  aqueous  greyhound ;  and  Avhile 
we  were  speculating  upon  the  chances  of  being  blown 


1^8  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

into  fragments,  we  darted  through  a  narrow  shute,  and 
in  less  than  five  minutes  we  passed  out,  and  were  by  the 
Bide  of  the  De  Soto. 

The  race  was  over.     Tlie  orders  had  been  executed. 

Perhaps  more  than  one  person  on  the  tug  breathed 
freer  as  we  ran  alongside  and  delivered  the  mail.  But 
the  excitement  was  gone.  Tlie  interest  was  at  an  end ; 
and  the  tug  became  an  ordinary  tug,  as  the  steam-gauge 
fell  to  seventy  again,  and  danger  dwindled  away,  with 
the  blue  vapor,  into  the  invisible  air. 

While  the  Captain  of  the  tug  was  busy  on  the  Be  Soto, 
my  companion  and  myself  went  into  the  cabin  of  the 
boat,  and  found  the  Commodore  lying  exhausted  upon  a 
sofa.  I  then  noticed  for  the  first  time  how  very  pale,  and 
worn,  and  thin  he  was.  Had  he  remained  another  month 
on  the  Benton,  I  do  not  think  he  would  ever  have  left 
her  alive. 

As  we  approached,  the  Commodore  extended  his 
wasted  hand.  We  expressed  the  hope  that  he  would 
soon  be  better ;  that  our  loss  would  prove  his  gain. 

''  It  is  the  cause  that  will  be  the  gainer,"  answered  the 
Flag-officer,  feebly.  "My  life  is  nothing.  My  country 
is  welcome  to  so  poor  an  offering  at  any  time  ;  but  I  can 
not  injure  our  sacred  cause  by  striving  to  fill  a  position 
for  which  illness  has  unfitted  me.  My  country  first; 
myself  afterwards." 

So  we  parted  from  the  gallant  Flag-officer,  and  never 
saw  him  more. 


NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT  AT  FORT  PILLOW.  1G9 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT  AT  FORT  PILLOW. 

Unexpected  Appearance  of  the  Hostile  Vessels. — Commencement  of  the  Attack. 
— Character  of  the  Enemy's  Boats. — Warm  Work  on  a  Warm  Day. — The  Rebel 
Sharpshooters. — A  Gallant  Captain  and  Determined  Lieutenant. — Explosion  of 
a  Rebel  Ram. — A  Paymaster  acting  as  Gunner. — Licidents  of  the  Fight. — 
Victory  Decided  in  our  Favor. 

The  Rebels  at  Fort  Pillow  had  so  often  made  menaces 
of  attack  upon  the  National  Flotilla,  that  no  one  on  board 
believed  they  had  any  idea  of  putting  their  threats  into 
execution.  And  yet  for  once  they  made  their  words 
good,  not  allowing  their  gasconade  to  end  altogether  in 
inanity,  as  it  has  so  often  done  in  the  flatulent  regions  of 
Secessia. 

It  had  generally  been  supposed,  if  the  enemy  designed 
to  engage  us,  they  Avould  take  advantage  of  the  night, 
and  endeavor  to  surprise  us  amid  the  darkness.  No  one 
imagined  the  Rebels  would  come  up  in  the  face  of  open 
day  and  offer  us  battle  ;  nor  do  I  believe  they  would 
have  done  so,  had  they  not  learned  our  position  the  day 
before. 

When  five  or  six  of  the  enemy' s  gunboats  and  two  or 
three  of  his  rams  appeared,  about  seven  o'clock,  on  the 
morning  of  May  10,  1862,  above  Craighead  Point,  they 
created  some  little  astonishment,  but  no  alarm,  not- 
withstanding we  were  taken  at  great  disadvantage.  Not 
one  of  our  boats  had  any  thing  like  a  full  liead  of  steam, 
and  some  of  them  barely  a  fire  in  their  boilers. 


170  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

As  the  Cincinnati,  Captain  Roger  A.  Stembel,  was 
about  half  a  mile  above  the  "Point,  guarding  two  of  the 
mortars,  and  the  other  gunboats  were  at  least  a  mile  and 
a  half  still  above  him,  the  Rebel  gunboat  McRea,  and 
three  rams,  the  Van  Dorn,  Webb,  and  Sumter,  immedi- 
ately steamed  toward  the  solitary  guardian,  Avhile  the 
remainder  of  tlie  hostile  fleet  stopped  in  the  bend  near 
the  Tennessee  shore,  after  firing  half  a  dozen  guns. 

It  was  evident,  from  the  beginning,  that  the  foe  de- 
signed to  make  his  fight  with  the  McRea  and  the  rams, 
not  caring  to  expose  his  other  gunboats  to  ours. 

The  enemy's  gunboats,  excepting  the  McRea,  were,  as 
they  had  been  represented,  tow-boats,  cut  down  to  the 
boiler  deck ;  their  machinery  inclosed  Avith  iron,  with 
bow  and  stern  guns  very  slenderl}^,  if  at  all,  protected, 
save  by  bales  of  cotton,  piled  several  feet  high  both  fore 
and  aft. 

The  McRea,  formerly  a  schooner,  and  very  fast,  was 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  long,  and  a  fine 
model.  Her  engines  and  boilers  were  protected  by  rail- 
way iron  ;  and  though  it  was  supposed  that  she  had  six, 
seven,  or  eight  guns,  only  two  Avere  perceptible. 

Her  bow  and  stern  were  covered  with  bales  of  cotton, 
which  were  also  piled  up  some  distance  on  her  deck, 
acting-  as  breastworks ;  and  behind  those  was  a  large 
body  of  infantry  and  sharpshooters,  whose  dut)^  it  was 
to  pick  off  wliomsoever  they  could  on  our  gunboats. 

The  three  rams,  the  Yan  Dorn,  Sumter,  and  Webb, 
were  protected  and  ironed  like  the  McRea,  but  were 
smaller  and  lower,  being  constructed  out  of  tow-boats. 
The  Van  Dorn  was  formidable,  having  a  sharp,  strong 


NAVAL  ENGAGEiTENT  AT  FORT  TILLOW.  l7l 

iron  prow,  partially  under  water,  as  the  McRea  and 
Sumter  had,  that  must  have  proved  very  effective  against 
the  strongest  vessel. 

The  two  rams  had  stern  and  bow  guns,  and  musketeers 
and  riflemen,  protected  by  bales  of  cotton. 

But  two  sailors  were  on  the  deck  of  the  Cincinnati, 
engaged  in  washing  it,  when  the  McRea,  considerably  in 
advance,  went  steaming  rapidly  toward  her.  The  alarm 
was  given,  and  the  officers  and  crew,  who  were  at  break- 
fast, were  soon  at  their  posts. 

They  had  no  time  to  get  out  of  the  way,  but  they  fired 
their  stern  guns  first,  and  then  si  double  broadside  at  her 
without  changing  her  course.  The  McRea  struck  her 
with  great  force  on  the  port  quarter,  knocking  a  great 
hole  in  her,  and  immediately  filling  the  shell-room  Avith 
water. 

The  gunboats  were  all  built  with  different  corapart- 
'ments  designed  to  be  water-tight,  so  that  if  one  of  them 
sprang  aleak,  the  others  would  remain  dry.  The  timber 
used,  however,  was  green  instead  of  seasoned  ;  and, 
having  shrunk  greatly,  the  filling  of  one  compartment 
with  water  was  equivalent  to  filling  them  all — a  fault  of 
the  builders  to  which  the  disaster  to  the  Cincinnati  was 
owing. 

The  McRea  now  backed  off  and  prepared  herself  for 
another  blow  ;  but  before  she  had  started  on  her  return, 
our  gunboat  had  fired  her  bow  guns  and  another  broad- 
side into  her,  at  a  distance  of  not  less  than  one  hundred 
and  fifty  yards.  Of  course,  every  shot  struck  her,  and 
some  of  the  cotton-bales  were  displaced  ;  but  she  did  not 
seem  at  all  disabled. 

12  / 


172  FOUR  YEAES  I^  SECESSIA. 

By  that  time  the  Van  Dom  had  arrived,  and,  though 
she  was  received  with  several  guns,  she  struck  the  Cin- 
cinnati in  the  stern,  and  in  k'ss  than  a  minute  the  McRea 
had  come  a  second  time  into  collision  with  our  craft, 
near  the  wheel-house,  on  the  starboard  side. 

The  Cincinnati  was  rapidly  taking  water,  and  in  a  very 
unpleasant  predicament ;  and  some  of  the  oflBcers  feared 
she  would  be  sunk  before  the  Mound  City,  Captain  A. 
H.  Kilty,  which  was  hastening  to  her  aid,  and  the  Benton, 
Captain  S.  L.  Phelps,  which  was  dropping  down  without 
steam,  could  come  to  her  assistance. 

Very  soon,  however,  the  Mound  City  arrived  at  the 
immediate  scene  of  action,  having  been  firing  very  accu- 
rately at  the  three  Rebel  vessels  while  she  was  making 
her  mile  of  distance. 

Her  shot  struck  the  McRea  and  Van  Dorn  again  and 
again  ;  and  as  she  moved  up,  the  former  leveled  her  long 
guns  at  the  bow,  and  was  on  the  eve  of  giving  her  a 
raking  fire,  when  the  gallant  Union  craft  sent  a  thirty- 
six  pound  shell  against  the  cannon,  and  completely  dis- 
mounted it: 

The  Van  Dorn  now  turned  her  attention  to  the  Mound 
City,  leaving  the  McRea  to  take  care  of  the  Cincinnati, 
which  would  have  been  the  recipient  of  a  fourth  thrust, 
had  not  the  broadside  of  the  Benton  caused  the  enemy 
to  veer  round  and  miss  her  victim. 

On  the  altered  schooner  the  sharpshooters  were  active, 
trying  to  kill  the  officers  at  the  same  time  that  they  in- 
sured security  for  themselves.  Their  rifles  were  visibly 
protruding  between  the  cotton-bales,  and  thrust  over  their 
tops,  and  numerous  bullets  whizzed  by  the  ears  of  our 


NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT  AT  FORT  PILLOW.  173 

gallant  sailors.  *  No  human  figure,  however,  could  "be 
seen,  except  the  man  at  the  wheel ;  and  Captain  Stembel, 
knowing  how  much  depended  on  removing  him,  called 
for  a  gun,  and  shot  the  pilot,  who  fell  apparently  dead. 

A  few  seconds  after,  the  pilot  of  the  Cincinnati  hallooed 

out,  "  There  is  a  d d  scoundrel  getting  ready  to  shoot 

you,  Captain." 

Stembel,  who  looked  up  and  saw  a  man  pointing  a 
gun  at  his  head,  discharged  his  own  piece  and  a  pair  of 
revolvers,  and  stepped  forward  to  screen  himself  behind 
the  pilot-house. 

He  was  too  late.  Before  he  had  half  covered  his  body 
with  the  intervening  object,  the  Rebel  sent  into  his  left 
shoulder  a  ball  that  passed  out  of  his  throat,  about  two 
inches  under  his  chin. 

The  brave  officer,  whose  principal  fault  was  that  he 
exposed  himself  too  recklessly,  fell  to  the  deck,  and  it 
was  supposed,  at  first,  he  was  killed.  He  was  picked 
up  and  carried  below,  where  he  retained  his  conscious- 
ness, and  every  few  seconds  opened  his  eyes  and 
anxiously  inquired  as  to  the  progress  of  the  battle.  His 
wounds  were  so  serious,  however,  that  he  was  not  able 
to  resume  his  duties  for  a  number  of  months. 

The  Cincinnati  seemed  settling ;  and  as  Lieutenant 
William  Hoel  had  then  succeeded  to  the  command,  he, 
under  the  impression  that  the  boat  would  soon  be  at  the 
bottom  of  the  river,  addressed  the  crew  for  a  few  seconds, 
telling  them  never  to  remove  the  American  ensign,  but 
to  go  down  with  it,  if  they  must  go  down,  and  giving 
three  cheers  for  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 

That   little  speech,  so  full  of  genuine  patriotism  and 


174  FOUR  YEAIIS  IN   SECESSIA. 

courage,  made  tlie  sailors  sliout  lustily  ;•  and  then  tliey 
turned  away  to  tlieir  duties. 

The  Cincinnati  was  rolling  from  side  to  side,  and  the 
inexorable  McRea  was,  for  the  fifth  time,  running  toward 
her.  That  blow  might  have  been  attended  with  disas- 
trous consequences ;  but,  as  she  was  speeding  to  the 
crippled  craft,  the  Benton  fired  two  of  her  rifled  Dahl- 
grens,  and  one  of  them  passed  through  the  boilers  of 
the  McRea,  which  exploded  with  a  tremendous  noise, 
that  was  but  faintly  heard,  however,  above  the  roar  of 
battle. 

Her  deck  was  observed  to  rise,  while  piercing  shrieks 
rent  the  air,  and  a  number  of  persons  were  seen  to  leap 
on  the  cotton-bales,  and  fall  back  wounded,  dying,  and 
dead. 

^t  that  moment  she  hauled  down  her  soiled  Rebel 
flag,  and  Captain  Phelps,  of  the  Benton,  ordered  his  men 
to  fire  on  her  no  more.  The  McRea  still  floated  down, 
and  as  she  was  turning  the.  point  she  again  hoisted 
her  tattered  ensign,  and  disappeared  behind  the  inter- 
vening land. 

After  the  McRea  had  passed  out  of  sight,  and  while 
the  Yan  Dorn  and  another  ram  called  the  Sumter  were 
engaged  with  the  Mound  City,  the  tug  Dauntless  ran 
out  to  the  Cincinnati,  and  towed  her  to  the  Tennessee 
shore. 

Though  disabled,  the  officers  of  the  Cincinnati  were 
still  disposed  to  fight,  and  more  desperately  than  ever, 
and  would  have  sunk  in  the  middle  of  the  Mississippi 
with  their  brave  spirits  unconquered. 

Just  before   the   McRea   exploded  her   boiler,  Cap- 


NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT  AT  FORT  TILLOW.  175 

tain  Stembel's  crew  had  been  prepared,  for  resisting 
"boarders,  as  it  was  tliouglit  some  of  the  enemy's  gun- 
boats or  rams  would  make  an  attempt  of  the  kind.  The 
sailors  were  ready  with  revolvers,  cutlasses,  boarding- 
pikes,  and  hand-grenades,  and  unfortunate  and  summary 
would  have  been  the  fate  of  the  Rebels  if  they  had  made 
the  rash  effort.  The  Union  crew  were  very  anxious  to 
give  the  foe  a  warm  reception,  and  a  howl  of  disappoint- 
ment arose  as  they  beheld  their  last  hope  of  engaging  the 
McRea  fade  away. 

The  Mound  City,  Captain  A.  H.  Kilty,  fought  the  Van 
Dorn  and  Sumter  bravely  ;  the  Captain  being  on  deck 
all  the  while,  and  firing  at  the  pilots  with  a  musket. 
Every  man  on  the  boat  was  active  and  watchful,  and  it 
was  very  strange  no  one  was  hit  by  the  enemy,  as  a  steady 
fire  of  rifles  was  kept  up  from  behind  the  cotton-bales. 

The  Mound  City  bore  many  marks  of  musket-balls  on 
her  pilot-house  and  paddle-boxes,  and  the  officers  heard 
the  music  of  the  small  leaden  vocalists  more  than  once 
in  close  proximity  to  their  imperiled  ears. 

PajTnaster  Gunn — afterwards  killed  in  action  up  the 
Wliite  River — although  he  knew  nothing  whatever  of 
artillery  or  projectiles,  and  had  no  duties  to  perform 
in  the  gun-room,  seeing  two  pieces  lying  idle,  induced 
a  couple  of  men  to  load  thorn,  and  pointing  the  cannon 
at  the  Van  Dorn,  only  a  hundred  yards  distant,  had  the 
satisfaction  of  planting  two  shells  in  the  very  center  of  the 
ram,  which  appeared  to  do  excellent  execution. 

The  Sumter  had  struck  the  Mound  City  twice  with 
her  iron  prow,  but  had  done  her  little  damage  ;  while  the 
gunboat  had  iddled  the  ram,  and  so  alarmed  the  sharp- 


17G  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

sliooters  tliat  tliey  remained  silent,  cowering  behind  their 
defenses.  The  Van  Dorn  finally  had  a  favorable  chance, 
and  struck  the  Mound  City  Avith  great  force  on  the  bow, 
causing  a  large  leak,  which  there  was  no  time  to  attempt 
to  stop. 

The  Benton  was  now  near  the  rams,  which  were  so 
afraid  of  the  flagship,  knowing  her  superior  strength, 
that  they  steamed  away  from  her  as  soon  as  possible. 
The  Benton  placed  herself  between  the  Van  Dorn  and 
Sumter,  and  fired  four  or  five  guns  at  a  third  ram,  which 
was  running  toward  the  Carondelet,  and,  striking  her 
wheels  and  machinery,  disabled  her. 

That  ram,  said  to  be  the  Webb,  began  floating  off"  with 
the  current,  and,  as  she  neared  the  point,  the  Benton  fired 
two  of  her  fifty-pound  Dahlgrens,  and  the  next  minute 
steam  was  pouring  out  of  every  part  of  her. 

Soon  after  one  of  her  boilers  exploded,  and  she  was 
half  a  wreck  as  the  last  glimpse  was  caught  of  her,  pass- 
ing the  first  fortifications  of  Pillow. 

The  Van  Dorn  appeared  to  bear  a  particular  hatred  to 
the  mortar  rafts,  which  must  have  annoyed  the  enemy 
not  a  little  with  their  perpetual  firing  over  the  irremova- 
ble Craighead.  She  even  paused  from  her  attack  on  the 
Mound  City,  and  fired  two  thirty-two  pounders  at  the 
crew  of  one  of  the  mortars,  perforating  the  thin  coat  of 
iron  as  if  it  had  been  glass. 

The  Rebel  marines  fired  a  number  of  shots  at  the 
mortar-men,  and  two  of  the  Secession  ofiicers  climbed 
on  the  cotton-bales  with  muskets,  and  discharged  their 
pieces,  but  with  no  effect. 

The  mortar-men  were  not  to  be  bullied^  so  the  crew 


NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT  AT  FOKT  TILLOW.  177 

loaded  one  of  the  monsters,  and  sent  a  thirteen-incli  shell 
in  the  direction  of  the  Van  Dorn.  The  enemy  was  not 
materially  injured,  for  the  bomb  coursed  off  at  an  angle 
of  forty-five  degrees. 

For  four  or  five  minutes  the  Benton,  under  the  control 
of  the  cool  and  skillful  pilot,  Horace  Bigsby,  turned 
several  times  completely  round  as  on  an  axis,  firing  in 
succession  her  bow,  stern,  and  broadside  guns.  The 
Rebels  knew  her  strength — indeed,  they  had  long  been 
acquainted  with  the  particularities  of  the  Flotilla  as  well 
as  we  ourselves — and  did  not  dare  to  attack  her  ;  and 
as  she  riddled  their  rams  with  her  guns,  they  felt  they 
had  no  prospect  of  success,  and  at  last  made  an  effort  to 
get  out  (ff  harm's  way. 

That  they  had  much  difficulty  in  doing,  in  consequence 
of  the  condition  of  their  machinery  ;  and  the  rams  were 
often  struck  by  the  Mound  City  and  Benton  before  they 
could  escape.  The  former  gunboat  fairly  touched  the 
stern  of  the  Yan  Doni  once,  and  fired  a  Dalilgren, 
whose  ball  passed  entirely  through  her,  and  must  have 
proved  very  destructive  to  human  life. 

The  Rebel  gunboats  in  the  lead,  near  the  Tennessee 
shore,  perceived  the  danger  of  their  allies,  but  lacked  the 
nerve  to  go  to  their  assistance,  and  at  last  steamed  down 
the  river,  leaving  the  rams  to  their  fate. 

The  Yan  Dorn,  Sumter,  and  Webb,  at  last  happened 
to  strike  a  favorable  current,  and  passed  away  from  the 
Benton,  which  was  very  unwieldy,  and  floated  toward 
the  Point. 

Had  our  gunboats  at  the  time  had  more  power — by  that 
I  mean  a  higher  pressure  of  steam — they  would  have  ex- 


178  FOUR   YEARS  11^   SECESSIA. 

perienced  no  trouble  in  conveying  the  hostile  rams  to 
Plum  Point  as  prizes. 

The  rebel  gunboats  having  fled,  and  the  rams  escaped, 
the  battle  Avas  of  course  over  ;  no  enemy  remaining  to  be 
engaged. 

Cheer  after  cheer  went  up  from  our  Flotilla  as  the  ene- 
my, one  after  another,  dropped  away,  and  three  times 
three  arose  from  the  flagship  while  the  last  of  the  Rebel 
rams  was  passing  by  Craighead  Point. 

Only  three  of  our  gunboats  were  engaged ;  but  the 
Carondelet,  Captain  Henry  "Walke,  and  the  St,  Louis, 
Captain  H.  Erben,  Jr. ,  fired  a  number  of  shots  from  their 
original  positions  off  the  Ai-kansas  shore  ;  though  it  was 
not  probable,  at  the  long  range,  that  they  did  afty  mate- 
rial damage  to  the  foe. 

The  action  did  not  occupy  more  than  half  an  hour,  and 
much  of  it  was  concealed  by  the  heavy  smoke  that  rested 
like  a  vast  fog  upon  the  river,  on  the  close,  hot,  bhizing 
morning  of  the  engagement.  Our  skiffs,  yawls,  and  tugs 
were  plying  here  and  there,  occupied  by  persons  anxious 
to  witness  the  fight,  which  surprised  every  one  bjr  its 
brevity.  Our  sailors  had  counted  on  a  long  battle,  and 
were  therefore  disappointed,  but  the  engagement  was 
warm  while  it  lasted. 

Our  success,  under  the  circumstances,  was  very  flatter- 
ing, for  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  attack  was  well 
planned  and  matured  by  the  foe,  and  was  at  least  a 
partial  surprise  to  us.  No  one  on  the  Flotilla  had  any 
idea  of  the  Rebels  coming  up  to  engage  us.  And  the 
Cincinnati  did  not  see  the  McRea  or  the  rams  before  they 
had  gotten  some  distance  above  the  Point. 


FALL  OF  MEMPHIS.  179 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


FALL   OF  MEMPHIS. 


A  Gasconading  Rebel.— The  BrilUant  Gunboat  Fight.— The  Vessels  Engaged.— 
The  Xautical  Situation.— Commencement  of  the  Action.— Union  Rams  Taking 
Part.— Increased  Warmth  of  the  Contest.— Sinking  of  the  General  Lovell.— 
Magnanimity  of  our  Seamen.— Flight  of  tlio  Southern  Commodore.— Explcsion 
of  the  Jeff.  Thompson.— Harmony  of  Northerners  and  Southerners  after  the 
City's  Occupation. 

Between-  five  and  six  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  June 
6,  1862,  the  most  spirited  and  decisive  battle  that  had 
occurred  on  the  Mississippi  was  fought,  for  the  posses- 
sion of  Memphis,  opposite  that  city,  between  five  of  our 
gunboats,  assisted  by  two  of  our  rams,  and  eight  of  the 
enemy's  gunboats.  The  engagement  was  witnessed  by 
thousands  of  the  citizens,  who  expected,  no  doubt,  to  see 
the  Unionists  driven  from  the  river,  as  they  had  been 
frequently  told  by  Commodore  Edward  Montgomery, 
that  he  would,  when  the  proper  time  came,  annihilate 
the  whole  Yankee  fleet. 

The  fight  was  a  glorious  one.  Out  of  eight  of  the  hos- 
tile vessels,  seven  were  destroyed,  sunk,  or  captured, 
and  but  one  escaped  ;  while  only  one  of  our  rams  was 
injured,  and  but  two  persons  were  slightly  wounded. 

The  Union  gunboats,  five  in  number,  Benton,  Cairo, 
Carondelet,  Louisville,  and  St.  Louis,  and  the  two  rams, 


180  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SECESSIA. 

Queen  of  the  West  and  the  Monarch,  left  their  moorings 
below  Paddy's  Hen  and  Chickens — as  the  group  of 
islands  five  miles  above  Memphis  is  called  by  steamboat 
men — about  half-past  four  in  the  morning,  and  slowly 
steamed  toward  the  city. 

The  morning  was  clear  and  calm,  balmy  and  beautiful ; 
and,  after  passing  a  bend  in  the  river,  we  saw  the  city  in 
the  distance,  reposing  very  quietly  upon  the  border  of 
the  broad  stream  that  had  poured  whatever  Memphis  had 
of  wealth  into  her  ungrateful  lap. 

The  river  was  clear  of  all  craft.  Not  even  a  skiflf 
skimmed  its  surface,  and  the  officers  of  the  fleet  thought 
we  should  meet  with  no  opj)osition  to  our  possession  of 
the  city.  The  seamen  were  very  fearful  lest  that  would 
prove  true,  and  prayed,  after  their  peculiar  nautical 
fashion,  that  the  Rebel  vessels  would  come  out  and  give 
us  fight. 

After  the  engagement  of  the  10th  of  May,  the  gunboat 
crews  felt  as  if  that  action  required  continuation,  and 
they  were  longing  for  another  battle  most  anxiously. 

The  sailors'  orisons  seemed  to  be  answered. 

The  Flotilla  was  just  r-pposite  the  upper  part  of  the 
city,  when  the  boats  of  the  Rebel  Fleet  were  seen  in  a 
slight  bend  of  the  river,  about  a  mile  and  a  quarter 
below. 

Our  crews  cheered  lustily  at  the  grateful  vision,  for 
they  knew  there  was  a  prospect  for  a  fight.  Tlie  Flotilla 
still  steamed  leisurely  along,  and  the  enemy  soon  ad- 
vanced towards  us. 

Commodore  Davis  did  not  wish  to  bring  on  an  engage- 
ment at  so  early  an  hour,  preferring  that  the  men  should 


FALL  OF  MEMrniS.  181 

eat  their  breakfast,  and  tlius  "be  qualified  to  fight  "better 
than  Avhen  suffering  from  pliysical  depletion.  lie  there- 
fore ordered  the  five  vessels  under  his  command  to  re- 
treat; and  the  foe,  perceiving  that,  grew  evidently  em- 
boldened, believing  we  were  anxious  to  avoid  a  battle. 

As  we  retraced  our  course  the  enemy  followed,  and, 
in  a  few  minutes,  the  flagship  Little  Rebel,  on  which  was 
Commodore  Montgomery,  fired  a  shot  at  the  Benton, 
which  was  in  the  van,  without  injuring  her,  and  then  a 
second  and  third,  with  the  same  effect. 

This  braggadocio  became  intolerable.  Commodore 
Davis  must  have  so  regarded  it,  for  he  at  once  ordered 
an  advance,  and  the  Benton,  Captain  W.  L.  Phelps,  and 
the  Louisville,  Captain  B.  M.  Dove,  assumed  the  front 
position,  with  the  Cairo,  Captain  Bryant,  the  Carondelet, 
Captain  Henry  Walke,  and  the  St.  Louis,  Captain  Wilson 
McGunnigle,  in  the  rear. 

The  hostile  fleet,  in  addition  to  the  flagship,  was  com- 
posed of  General  Beauregard,  General  Bragg,  Jefi". 
Thompson,  General  Lovell,  General  Price,  Sumter,  and 
General  Van  Dorn. 

The  Cairo  was  the  first  of  our  boats  to  discharge  a  gun 
at  the  enemy,  and  followed  it  up  by  two  more  that  fell 
very  near  the  Little  Rebel,  without  striking  her. 

The  Carondelet  and  Louisville  imitated  the  worthy 
example,  and  the  Lovell  and  Thompson,  Bragg  and 
Prices,  on  tlie  other  side,  took  part  in  the  nautical  enter- 
tainment, and  lent  the  deep  bass  of  their  guns  to  the 
warlike  concert. 

In  less  than  three  minutes  both  fleets  were  engaged 
in  a  most  animated  action,  and  every  vessel  was  thun- 


« 
182  FOUPw  YEARS  m  SECESSIA. 

dering  away  to  tlie  best  of  its  capacity.  Tlie  river  and 
sky  seemed  to  sliake  "beneath  the  roar. 

The  boats  w?re  gradually  approaching  nearer  each 
other,  and  "were  enveloped  in  such  a  volume  of  smoke 
that  one  could  hardly  be  distinguished  from  the  other, 
except  when  a  fresh,  stiff  breeze  lifted  the  curtain  of 
heavy  vapor. 

The  engagement  continned  thus  for  more  than  twenty 
minutes,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  the  combatants 
were  more  than  half  a  mile  apart,  and  were  still  firing 
heavily. 

We  had  frequently  hit  their  boats,  but  they  had  not 
touched  ours ;  their  gunners  being  in  a  state  of  excite- 
ment or  iinskillfulness  that  caused  them  to  entirely  waste 
their  ammunition. 

At  this  juncture,  two  Cincinnati  rams,  the  Queen  of 
the  "West  and  Monarch,  appeared  about  half  a  mile  be- 
hind the  Flotilla;  and  the  enemy,  as  soon  as  he  per- 
ceived them,  began  to  retreat,  conscious  if  he  could  not 
sustain  the  attack  before,  he  would  be  still  less  able  to 
do  it  after  the  rams  had  entered  upon  the  action. 

The  Queen  of  the  West  darted  out  at  rapid  speed 
ahead  of  its  companion  toward  the  Beauregard,  which 
fired  at  her  opponent  four  times  without  striking  her 
once,  though  in  one  or  two  instances  no  more  than  two 
hundred  "yards  distant. 

The  ram,  nothing  disconcerted,  ran  in  boldly,  design- 
ing to  butt  the  Rebel  near  the  bow,  and  would  have 
done  so,  had  not  the  gunboat  been  so  adroitly  managed 
by  her  pilot.  The  Beauregard  moved  suddenly  to  the 
right  as  the  ram  passed — the  movement  was  very  skill- 


FALL  OF  MEMPHIS.  183 

ful  and  very  opportune  for  the  eutijny — causing  tlie  latter 
to  miss  lier  aim  altogether. 

Tlie  ram,  finding  herself  thus  foiled,  determined  to  test 
her  capacity  upon  another  vessel,  and  so  turned  lier  at- 
tention to  the  General  Price,  and  hit  her  heavily  on  the 
wheel-house  before  she  could  get  ont  of  the  way,  tearing 
off  a  good  portion  of  her  side. 

The  Beauregard  immediately  went  to  the  rescue,  and 
was  steaming  towards  the  ram,  when  the  latter  reversed 
her  engines  and  receded  a  few  yards,  causing  the  gun- 
boat to  collide  with  the  injured  Price,  and  knock  a  large 
hole  in  her  bow. 

Such  peculiar  attention  from  an  ally  was  unexpected, 
and  more  than  the  Price  could  endure,  for  she  had  been 
leaking  from  her  first  injury,  and  now  the  water  poured 
into  her  in  streams. 

The  Beauregard  seemed  inclined  to  avenge  her  own 
mistake  upon  the  Queen  ;  and,  before  the  latter  was  well 
aware,  struck  her  a  heavy  blow  upon  the  side  that  made 
her  timbers  crack,  and  take  water  freely. 

The  water  was  quite  deep  at  that  point,  and  there  was 
a  probability  the  ram  and  gunboat  would  both  sink ; 
but,  to  remove  doubt  on  the  subject  for  one  of  the  pair, 
the  Beauregard  was  on  the  point  of  hitting  the  ram  a 
second  time,  when  the  close  proximity  of  the  Monarch 
induced  her  to  look  out  for  her  own  safety. 

The  Beauregard  fired  several  times  at  the  Monarch, 
and  struck  her  once  upon  the  wooden  bulwarks,  with- 
out producing  any  particular  eflect.  Tlie  Monarch  then 
took  charge  of  the  Queen  and  the  Price,  and  towed 
them  ashore  to  prevent  them  from  sinking  ;  though  not 


184  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

before  she  liad  made  a  large  hole  in  the  stern  of  the 
Beauregard,  and  rendered  her  prospect  of  keeping 
above  water,  for  any  length  of  time,  extremely  prob- 
lematical. 

The  Beauregard  was  crippled,  but  as  she  was  still  able 
to  run  fairly,  and  to  render  obedience  to  the  helmsman, 
she  continued  to  participate  in  the  fight  with  great  ob- 
stinacy. 

Daring  the  scenes  of  the  action  in  which  the  rams  had 
taken  part,  the  gunboats  had  continued  firing  steadily 
and  heavily ;  the  Unionists  often  hitting  the  Rebels, 
while  the  latter  missed  their  objects  almost  invariably. 

.The  gunboats  on  both  sides,  having  been  separated 
somewhat  by  the  rams,  came  up  nearer,  again  to  pay 
their  respects  to  each  other,  and  the  cannonading  grew 
heavier  than  it  had  been  at  any  previous  time.  The  dis- 
tant report  of  the  single  guns  was  lost — they  all  blended 
together  in  one  loud,  deafening  roar. 

The  Benton  was  still  in  the  van,  and  within  range  of 
the  Lovell,  when  Captain  Phelps  thought  he  would  try 
one  of  the  fifty-pound  rifled  Parrotts  on  the  foe. 

The  conical  shell  went  whizzing  out  of  the  long  and 
formidable  piece  into  the  Lovell,  just  above  her  water- 
line,  cutting  a  deep  hole  in  her,  and  increasing  the  rate 
of  her  insurance  fearfully. 

The  Lovell,  it  was  immediately  discovered,  was  leak- 
ing like  a  sieve,  and  indeed  she  was  already  beginning 
to  sink  rapidly,  and,  from  appearance,  must  go  down 
very  soon. 

Her  crew  appeared  aware  of  tliis,  for  they  were  seen 
on  the  side  of  the  vessel,  forgetful  of  every  thing  but 


FALL   OF  MEMPHIS.  IS5 

their  own  safety.     Self-preservation  was  their  only  law 
at  that  juncture. 

Tlio  Lovell  was  descending  lower  and  lower,  and  tlio 
Benton,  anxious  to  save  any  of  the  poor  fellows  that 
might  be  launched  into  the  rapid  river,  prepared  her 
cutter,  which,  in  the  haste,  was  twice  swamped. 

The  seamen  were  soon  in  the  cutter,  however,  and 
approaching  the  doomed  gunboat,  which  had  just  run 
np  a  flag  of  truce,  and  which,  thirty  seconds  after,  went 
down  in  fourteen  fathoms  of  water. 

At  least  twenty-five  or  thirty  of  the  Rebels  leaped 
overboard  after  the  accident,  with  the  intention  of  swim- 
ming ashore.  Some  of  them  succeeded ;  but  the  greater 
part  perished  miserably  in  the  stream. 

The  Union  flag-ship  reached  the  spot  in  time  to  pick  up 
ten  or  twelve  poor  fellows  struggling  in  the  river,  and 
save  them  at  least  from  the  death  which  Friar  John,  in 
Rabelais,  predicted  would  not  fall  to  the  lot  of  Panurge, 
and  would  never  occur  to  them  for  the  same  reason. 

The  efforts  of  the  loyal  seamen  to  preserve  the  lives  of 
those  who  had  been  but  a  few  minutes  before  their 
avowed  and  bitter  enemies,  was  a  beautiful  spectacle 
and  proved  conclusively  the  falseness  of  the  charges  of 
inhumanity  and  blood-thirstiness  which  the  Secessionists 
have  brought  against  the  brave  and  loyal  people  of  the 
North. 

From  the  first  inception  of  the  fight,  the  wharf  and 
bluffs  of  Memphis  had  been  crowded  with  interested  and 
anxious  spectators  ;  and  as  the  boats  moved  down  the 
river  the  throng  followed,  as  if  fearful  they  would  lose 
the   smallest  part  of  the  highly   exciting    battle.      The 


186  FOUR  YEAKS  IX  SECESSIA. 

people  were  thus  made  witnesses  of  our  actions  and  those 
of  the  Rebels,  and  were  not  to  be  deceived  with  Mun- 
chaiisen-like  stories,  when  they  had  the  facts  immediately 
before  their  eyes. 

The  magnanimity  of  the  crew  of  the  Benton  must  have 
had  a  salutary  influence  upon  them,  for  it  proved  that 
loyal  hearts  were  as  generous  as  they  were  brave. 

The  Little  Rebel  was  leaking  more  and  more  rapidly, 
and,  having  been  struck  several  additional  times  with 
heavy  shot.  Commodore  Edward  Montgomery  doubtless 
began  to  feel  uneasy,  and  therefore  ran  the  flagship  over 
to  the  Arkansas  shore,  where  she  was  followed  by  the 
Carondelet  so  closely  that  her  officers  had  no  time  to  burn 
her — as  was  doubtless  their  intention — but  had  ample 
leisure  to  leap  on  the  bank  and  escape  through  the 
woods. 

Tlie  Carondelet  threw  a  dozen  sliells  among  the  trees 
after  the  alarmed  fugitives,  but  did  them,  in  all  proba- 
bility, not  the  least  harm.  It  is  said  that  Commodore 
Montgomery  was  the  first  man  ashore — he,  the  truculent 
boaster  and  presumptuous  braggart,  who  had  ever 
been  threatening  to  devour  the  Yankees,  and  comjjletely 
depopulate  the  d — d  Abolition  jSTorth. 

Perhaps  he  thought,  as  John  B.  Floyd  said  at  Donel- 
son,  he  could  not  afford  to  be  taken. 

Queer — is  it  not  ? — that  the  fellows  who  prate  so  un- 
ceasingly of  their  determination  to  die  upon  the  smallest 
provocation,  and  affect  sucli  magnificent  indifference  to 
death,  should,  when  the  test  comes,  reveal  more  love  of 
existence  than  the  most  ordinary  and  least  obtrusive 
natures,  that  never  defied  a  respectable  shadow. 


FALL  OF  MEMPHIS  i87 

Tlie  Jeff.  Thompson  was  struck  a  number  of  times,  and 
was  so  severely  injured  that  she  also  was  run  to  the 
Arkansas  shore,  about  a  mile  below  the  city,  and  deserted 
by  her  officers  and  crew,  after  the  manner  of  the  Little 
Rebel. 

A  shell  had  set  the  vessel  on  fire ;  but  the  flames  were 
extinguished — or  it  was  thought  they  were — by  some  of 
the  Union  sailors  ill  gigs,  and  the  five  uninjured  ships  of 
the  National  Fleet  continued  their  pursuit  of  the  Sumter, 
General  Bragg,  and  Yan  Dorn. 

After  the  gunboats  had  followed  the  retreating  enemy 
a  mile  further,  firing  steadily,  and  the  Rebels  replying, 
though  more  and  more  feebly  as  the  chase  was  extended, 
the  Sumter' s  x>ilot  put  her  head  to  the  Arkansas  side,  and 
beached  her,  giving  her  valiant  crew  the  means  of  escape 
through  the  wilds  and  swamps  of  that  classic  State. 

The  General  Bragg  had  received  a  shot  through  her 
wheel-house,  (^arly  in  tlu^  action,  and  was  unable  to  move 
about  very  readily  ;  but  she  contrived  to  get  over  the 
river,  thus  furnishing  the  frightened  Rebels  an  oppor- 
tunity to  emigrate  further  South. 

The  General  Yan  Dorn,  the  only  boat  now  remaining 
of  the  Rebel  Fleet,  was  still  steaming  toward  President's 
Island,  three  miles  below  the  city.  The  Cairo  and  Caron- 
delet  followed  her  for  two  miles,  hoping  to  cripple  her 
with  a  shot,  but  neither  of  them  succeeded,  and  they  at 
last  gave  up  the  pursuit. 

Surely  our  gallant  sailors  ought  to  have  been  satisfied 
with  the  biilliant  successes  of  that  day.  They  had  placed 
Tiors  de  combat  seven  out  of  eight  of  i\w  insurgent 
vessels,  and  had  gained  one  of  the  most  brilliant  naval 

13 


18*  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SEOESSIA. 

victories  on  record,  witliout  any  loss  to  tlierasolves  Avortliy 
of  mention. 

While  the  Union  gunboats  were  on  their  way  to  the 
city,  they  perceived  that  the  Jeif  Thompson,  lying  off  the 
Arkansas  shore,  was  on  fire  again,  and  the  flami^s  were 
pouring  out  all  over  her  deck. 

The  cause  of  the  new  conflagration  was  not  positively 
known.  Some  persons  declared  tliat*the  old  flames  burst 
out  anew  ;  and  others,  that  the  gunboat  was  set  on  fire  by 
a  party  of  Kebels  who  returned  to  the  vessel,  applying 
the  torch  after  the  Flotilla  had  2:)assed  down  the  river. 

The  latter  opinion  was  probably  correct.  Tlie  Jeff. 
Tliompson  was  blazing  .  higher  and  higher,  and  the 
flames  attracted  a  crowd  of  persons  to  the  T(;nnessee 
shore,  because  it  was  supposed  she  would  bloAv  up  as 
soon  as  the  fire  reached  her  magazine. 

The  gunboat  appeared  to  burn  for  hours,  so  much  did 
exj)ectation  burden  time,  and  the  flames  were  creeping 
down  to  the  water's  edge,  apparently  ;  and  yet  no  indica- 
tion had  been  given  of  an  explosion.  It  was  supposed 
that  the  powder  had  been  removed  from  the  Thompson, 
and  a  number  of  persons  were  turning- away  disappointed, 
when  a  tremendous  explosion  rent  the  air,  and  an  im- 
mense flame  shot  up  into  the  radiant  mornins:,  while 
hundreds  of  heavy  reports  were  heard  in  rapid  succes- 
sion half  a  mile  above  our  heads. 

Those  were  the  shells  of  the  gunboat,  which  had  been 
thrown  upward  with  ignited  fuses  from  the  vessel,  and 
burst  with  the  tremendous  crackling  sound  that  vast 
buildings  sometimes  give  before  they  fall  to  the  earth  in 
ruins. 


FALL   OF  MEMPHIS.  1S9 

Looking  over  to  the  spot  where  the  Jelf.  Tliompson 
was,  we  saw  nothing  but  a  few  black  and  charred  frag- 
ments on  the  water.  She  liad  been  literally  blown  to 
atoms — a  worthy  fate  for  a  Rebel  vessel,  and  typical  of 
the  termination  of  the  Rebel  causer. 

*  *  *  * 

The  most  pleasant  relations  seemed  to  exist  between  the 
Union  parties  that  captured  Memphis  on  the  6tli  and  the 
resident  citizens ;  and  it  was  amusing  to  observe  how 
amiable,  and  almost  fraternal,  were  the  associations  be- 
tween the  Bohemians  from  New  York,  Cincinnati,  Chi- 
cago, and  St.  Louis,  and  tlie  journalists  of  Memphis, 
recently  so  ferociously  malignant  and  bitterly  vindictive 
against  the  Abolition  Press. 

The  Bluflf  City  journalists  called  upon  us  daily  at  the 
Flotilla,  or  at  our  head-quarters  in  the  city,  and  we  talked 
and  laughed  over  tlie  gasconade  of  the  Soutli,  its  mighty 
promises  and  small  performances,  in  a  most  pleasant  man- 
ner. One  could  have  seen  the  New  York  Tribune  and 
the  MempJiis  Appeal  sitting  in  pleasing  converse  over  a 
bottle  of  champagne,  at  the  dinner-table  of  the  Gayoso ; 
the  Chicago  Tiihune  and  Memphis  Argus  strolling 
through  Court  Square,  arm-in-arm  ;  and  tlie  Cincinnati 
Times  and  the  Memphis  Avalanche^  forgetful  of  the  pre- 
sent, discussing  the  relative  merits  of  Grisi  and  Gazzaniga 
on  tliH  lyric  stage.  Who,  after  tliat,  could  say  the  jour- 
nalists were  not  an  amiable  and  a  forgiving  race,  and  that 
the  people  of  the  Nortli  and  South  were  not  a  band  of 
brothers  ? 

If  the  day  of  our  occupation  was  not  a  gala-day  in 
Memphis,  it  appeared  strangely  otherwise.     It  reminded 


190  FOUR  YEAKS  IN  SECESSIA. 

me  of  a  Fourth  of  July  I  had  passed  there  a  few  years 
before,  except  that  it  was  far  more  quiet  and  orderly. 
Tlie  people  stood  in  knots  and  groups  in  the  streets,  at  the 
corners,  before  the  hotels  and  restaurants,  but  were  not 
uneasy  or  annoyed. 

The  negroes  lounged  listlessly  about,  and  seemed  to 
regard  the  whole  thing  as  a  pleasant  joke,  or  a  glorious 
event — it  was  difficult  from  the  expression  of  their  coun- 
tenances to  determine  which. 

The  women  were  not  in  force,  but  most  of  them  were 
of  that  class  of  which  Memphis  had  ever  had  far  more 
than  her  just  proportion.  Still,  there  were  not  a  few  of 
the  sex  abroad ;  and  a  number  I  saw  sitting  in  their 
parlors,  or  on  their  door-steps,  were  eminently  correct  in 
conduct  and  respectable  in  appearance. 

No  dark  looks,  no  rude  gestures,  no  studied  insult  from 
them.  They  conducted  themselves  in  a  most  ladj^-like 
manner ;  and  even  the  lorette  class  were  subdued  and 
reserved. 

The  Cyprians  were  often  young  and  comely,  and  expen- 
sively attired,  though  frequently  with  sober  and  excellent 
taste.  They  were  too  broad  to  be  bound  by  political 
creeds  or  formulas.     They  were  universal. 

Hundreds  of  them  had  witnessed  the  naval  engagement 
from  the  bluff,  and  one  of  the  city  j)apers  had  assumed 
that  they  were  Southern  ladies,  Avho  could  not  restrain 
tlieir  tears  of  mortification  and  rage  when  they  beheld  the 
discomfiture  and  almost  total  destruction  of  the  hostile 
fleet. 

The  idea  of  their  weeping  !  Tlie  source  of  their  tears 
had  long  been  dried.     They  mourned  not  for  Adonais 


FALL  OF  MEMPHIS.  191 

dead,  or  living  either.  What  cared  they  -which  side 
Tvas  victorious  'i  What  was  Hecuba  to  them,  or  they  to 
Hecuba  ? 

Curiosity  and  personal  interest  called  them  forth  on 
that  day  ;  and  ifkiny  of  them,  no  doubt,  speculated  from 
the  first  hour  of  the  Union  occupation  upon  the  same  sub- 
ject— though  from  a  different  motive — that  so  perplexed 
the  mind  of  the  antique  female  at  the  siege  of  Saragossa. 

Memphis  bore  all  the  appearance  of  a  subjugated 
city ;  and  yet  it  had  been  as  violent  in  its  treason  as 
Charleston. 

Tlie  people  accepted  their  altered  condition  without 
a  murmur  ;  and  they  were  wise  in  so  doing. 

When  I  saw  our  gunboats  with  their  ports  triced  up, 
and  the  long,  black  guns  bearing  on  the  town,  I  must 
confess  I  rather  liked  the  new  order  of  things. 

I  was  glad  Memphis  had  learned  the  lesson  so  many 
other  nests  of  treason  have  since  learned  to  theii'  severest 
cost. 


192  FOUR  YEAES  IX  SECESSLL 


CHAPTER  XXIX.   ' 

THE   EXPEDITION   UP  WHITE   EIVER. 

Its  Object  and  Strength. — Cautious  Progress. — Character  of  tho  Stream. — Des- 
peration of  the  Arlcansans. — Progress  of  the  Fleet. — The  Engagement  near 
St.  Cliarles. — Position  of  the  Hostile  Fortifications. — Explosion  of  the  Mound 
City. — Terrible  Destruction  by  Steam. — Horrible  Scenes  of  Suffering. — Inhu- 
manity and  Barbarity  of  the  Rebels. — Their  Defeat  and  Punishment.  * 

The  White  River  expedition  left  Mempliis,  Tennessee, 
in  June,  18C2.  for  the  purpose  of  ascending  that  stream 
as  far  as  Jacksonport,  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from 
the  mouth,  suj^plying  General  Curtis' s  force  with  pro- 
visions, and  capturing  the  transports  the  Rebels  were 
supposed  to  have  stolen  and  concealed  there. 

The  expedition,  which  was  only  partially  successful, 
consisted  of  the  iron- clad  gunboats  Mound  City  (flag- 
sliip),  the  St.  Louis,  the  two  wooden  gunboats,  Lexing- 
ton and  Conestoga  ;  with  the  tug  Spitfire,  anned  with  a 
twentj-potind  howitzer,  and  the  transports  New  National, 
White  Cloud,  and  D.  Musselman,  carrying  part  of 
Colonel  G.  N.  Fitch's  Forty-sixth  Indiana  regiment,  and 
a  large  amount  of  supplies. 

The  expedition  tarried  at  the  confluence  of  the  Missis- 
sippi from  Saturday  afternoon  until  Monday  morning, 
and  then  proceeded  cautiously  and  slowly  up  the  river, 
having  heard  obstructions  had  been  placed  in  the  '^^ater, 
and  batteries  erected  to  resist  the  progress  of  the  fleet. 


TUE   EXPEDITION    UP   AVUITE   RIVER.  193 

Tlie  gunboats  steamed  along — the  flagsliip  in  advance, 
tlie  St.  Louis  in  lier  wake,  and  tlie  wooden  boats  about 
half  a  mile  behind — all  of  j\Ionday,  without  meeting  any- 
thing of  consequence,  or  the  least  exciting  occurrence. 

Monday  niglit  they  anchored  in  the  stream,  which, 
though  quite  deep,  is  very  narrow  ;  being  in  some  places 
no  more  than  two  hundred  yards  from  bank  to  bank. 

There  are  bluffs,  or  more  properly  ridges,  along  the 
river  at  intervals  ;  and  these  ridges  rise  to  higlits  of  thirty, 
forty,  and  fifty  feet,  rendering  the  stream  very  favorable 
for  defense. 

Almost  anywhere  on  the  White,  a  skilled  marksman 
could  shoot  an  enemy  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  in 
many  places  on  the  opposite  bank. 

Captain  Kilty,  of  the  Mound  City,  had  been  informed 
that  Rebel  batteries  had  been  planted  near  St.  Charles, 
Arkansas,  about  seventy  miles  from  the  mouth ;  but, 
when  he  had  made  that  distance,  he  saw  no  signs  of 
them. 

However,  to  obtain  as  early  intelligence  of  them  as  pos- 
sible, he  began  to  shell  the  woods  along  the  banks,  which, 
in  various  localities,  offered  fine  opportunities  for  ambus- 
cade The  St.  Louis  and  Conestoga  also  threw  shells, 
while  the  Lexington  lingered  in  the  rear  to  guard  the 
transports,  and  to  preserve  a  sharp  look-out  for  the 
enemy. 

The  Arkansans  had  for  some  time  been  growing  desper- 
ate, and  more  than  usually  menacing,  on  account  of  the 
overrunning  of  their  State  by  the  "Yankee  hordes  of 
barbarians,"  and  the  peculiar  tantrums  of  Governor  Rec- 
tor.    They  were  fearful,  no  doubt,  if  thoroughly  invaded 


194  FOUrw   YEARS   IN  SECESSIA. 

by  tlK>  Northern  people,  tliat  they  might  grow  civilized  ; 
and  if  such  an  unnatural  thing  should  happen,  they 
would  lose  their  identity  completely,  and  cease  to  be  re- 
garded in  this  country  as  the  Patagonians  are  by  the 
nations  of  Europe. 

The  brilliant  prestige  of  Arkansas  would  be  gone.  Its 
classic  communities  would  turn  their  attention  from  the 
high-toned  and  chivalrous  amusements  of  imbibing  Minie 
rifle  whisky,  and  assassinating  unarmed  men,  to  the  vile 
Yankee  habits  of  healthfal  employment  and  general 
culture. 

The  Union  Fleet  had  proceeded  something  over  eighty 
miles  uj)  White  River,  when  the  vessels  were  fired  upon 
from  a  battery  on  the  south  side,  but  so  hidden  among 
the  trees  that  the  officers  could  hardly  determine  the  spot 
whence  the  pieces  were  discharged. 

The  guns  of  the  enemy  were  not  very  heavy,  sounding 
like  twelve  and  twenty-four  pounders  ;  and  subsequent 
examination  proved  they  were  such. 

Two  of  the  shots  struck  the  casemates  of  the  St.  Louis, 
but  glanced  off  harmless,  while  most  of  them  passed  over 
the  deck. 

The  Mound  City  and  St,  Louis  both  fired  at  the  Rebel 
batteries,  and  frequently  perceived  that  their  shells  fell 
very  near,  if  not  inside  of,  the  works. 

After  seven  or  eight  minutes,  the  enemy  appeared 
fatigued  with  his  efforts  and  fired  only  at  intervals, 
whereupon  the  Mound  City  pushed  on,  leaving  the  first 
battery  to  the  St.  Louis  and  Conestoga,  which  were 
throwing  a  few  shells  at  the  Rebel  fortifications  at  a  mile's 
distance. 


THE  EXrEDITION   UP   WHITE   RIVER.  195 

At  that  place  tli'ere  was  a  bend  in  the  river,  and  further 
np  a  more  decided  turn  toward  the  South,  the  general 
course  of  tlie  stream  being  East  and  A\^st. 

Tlie  first  battery  was  opposite  tlie  former  bend,  on  the 
top  of  a  ridge,  about  fifty  feet  high  ;  and  the  opinion  tliat 
it  had  a  companion  was  soon  established  by  a  heavy  re- 
port from  a  point  half  a  mile  above,  the  howl  of  a  round 
shot  across  the  bow  of  the  Mound  City,  and  the  burial  of 
the  iron  missile  in  the  bank  on  the  opposite  side. 

A  second  shot  came,  but  it  went  wide  of  the  mark,  and 
cut  off  the  branches  of  a  tree  two  hundred  yards  in  the  rear 
of  the  vessel.  The  new  ordnance  was  heavier  than  that 
in  the  lower  battery;  and  the  flagship  promptly  pro- 
ceeded to  pay  her  comj)liments  to  the  loud-voic(xl  stranger. 

The  Mound  City  fired  her  bow  guns  twice,  and  then 
her  port  guns,  as  she  steamed  up  the  river  a  little  fur- 
ther— making  the  distance  between  her  and  the  upper 
battery  less  than  half  a  mile. 

The  second  fortification  was  on  the  same  bluff  or  ridge 
as  its  felloAV,  but  a  little  further  from  the  shore,  and  in  a 
southwesterly  direction  from  the  flagship,  preventing 
its  guns  from  bearing  directly  on  the  Mound  City. 

The  effect  of  the  flagship's  shots  could  not  not  be  well 
determined ;  but  they  appeared  to  be  falling  where  the 
gunners  desired,  and  the  cannonade  on  her  part,  as  Avell 
as  on  that  of  the  St.  Louis,  w^as  warmly  kept  up  for 
eight  or  ten  minutes  ;  less  than  twenty  having  elapsed 
since  the  first  gun  had  been  fired  from  the  lower  battery. 

In  the  mean  time,  Colonel  Fitch  had  landed  his  five  or 
six  hundred  men  on  the  southern  bank,  below  the  first 
battery,  with  the  intention  of  attacking  the  upper  works 


196  FOUR  YEARS  m  SECESSIA. 

in  the  rear,  and  surprising  the  enemy  at  his  guns,  which 
he  had  no  doubt  of  accomplishing. 

The  Colonel  was  already  on  the  march,  and  had  sig- 
naled the  Mound  City  to  cease  firing,  that  liis  ow^i  men 
might  not  be  injured,  when  an  unanticipated  accident, 
of  the  most  horrible  character,  almost  entirely  destroyed 
the  officers  and  crew  of  the  flagship. 

A  large  cylindrical  shot,  with  iron  flanges  on  each 
side,  known  among  the  Rebels  as  the  pigeon-shot,  struck 
the  casemates  on  the  port  side,  in  the  upper  port,  near 
the  first  gun,  at  an  angle  of  about  ninety  degrees,  passing 
through  the  casemate  and  connecting-pipe  of  the  boilers, 
killing  a  gunner  on  the  starboard  side,  and  alighting  in 
the  steward' s  pantry. 

The  effect  of  severing  the  connecting-pipe  may  be 
imagined. 

All  the  steam  of  the  boilers  at  once  rushed,  with  a 
shrill,  hissing  sound,  into  every  part  of  the  gunboat, 
which  presented  no  means  for  its  escape  except  thi-ough 
the  port-holes  and  skylights. 

It  was  like  injecting  steam  into  an  air-tight  box  ;  and 
when  we  remember  tliat  there  were  nearly  one  hundred 
and  eighty  human  beings  below  the  deck,  the  ineffable 
horror  of  their  situation  may  readily  be  conceived. 

The  burning  steam  fairly  mowed  them  down.  They 
shrieked,  and  leaped,  and  writhed  with  pain.  But  the 
steam  did  not  pity  them  :  it  seemed  rather  to  delight  in 
their  sufferings,  extending  its  vaporous  torture  to  new 
victims. 

Horrors  upon  horrors  accumulated  in  that  low,  square, 
seething,  boUing,   fiery  inclosure,  where  man  endftred 


THE  EXPEDITION  UP  WHITE  RIVER.  197 

all  the  fabled  agonies   of  the  damned,   and  yet   could 
not  die. 

To  some,  Fate  was  merciful,  for  they  perished  at  once. 
As  many  as  forty-five  or  fifty,  who  had  stood  on  the  gun- 
deck  a  few  moments  before,  with  buoyant  hopes  and 
elated  spirits,  lay  there  in  pallid  death,  unconscious  of 
the  pain  around  them,  of  the  terrible  moaning  and  groan- 
ing of  the  sufferers. 

It  was  easy  to  die,  but  it  was  hard  to  suffer  so.  And 
many  a  pain-gleaming  eye  turned  to  the  scalded  corpses 
that  strewed  the  deck,  and  wondered  in  agonizing  accents 
why  Heaven  had  not  been  so  kind  to  all. 

Oh,  the  horror  of  that  scene  !  Oh,  the  fearful  power 
of  man  to  suffer ! 

Who  that  saw  what  was  visible  that  day  can'  ever  for- 
get it  ? 

Will  not  that  wail  of  distress  fall  upon  his  ear  in  dreams, 
and  make  him  start  in  dread  even  from  the  arms  of  her 
he  loves  above  his  life  ? 

As  soon  as  the  first  shock  had  passed,  those  who  had 
not  been  slain,  from  full  inhalation  of  the  steam,  were 
prompted,  mad  with  pain,  to  leap  into  the  river  to  cool 
theu'  burning  bodies. 

The  impulse  appeared  to  seize  upon  all  simultaneously, 
and  out  of  the  open  ports  plunged  one  wretch  after 
another,  until  seventy  or  eighty  were  struggling  in  the 
water. 

Some  were  so  badly  scalded  that  they  could  not  swim, 
and  they,  most  fortunately,  were  drowned  ;  while  others, 
refreshed  and  cooled  by  the  river,  struck  out  for  the 
bank,  as  if  they  had  been  uninjured. 


198  FOUR  YEARS  DT  SECESSIA. 

At  that  crisis,  ■vvhen  every  principle  of  humanity  called 
for  aid  and  succor,  the  Rebels  proved  themselves  worthy 
of  the  antecedents  that  had  dishonored  and  disgraced 
them  from  the  beginning  of  the  AVar. 

Instead  of  imitating  the  example  of  generosity  and 
magnanimity  set  them  by  a  brave  and  loyal  people,  strug- 
gling for  the  preservation  of  a  great  and  glorious  country  ; 
forgetting  the  heroic  conduct  shown  by  our  seamen,  who 
endeavored,  in  the  gunboat  fight  off  Memphis,  to  save  the 
lives  of  the  unfortunate  crew  of  the  General  Lovell  when 
she  went  down — the  Rebels,  most  merciless  and  dastardly, 
made  every  effort  to  destroy  the  poor  fellows  who,  with 
agonized  bodies,  were  seeking  to  reach  either  the  land  or 
our  vessels. 

Perpetual  shame  and  eternal  infamy  to  the  people  who 
could  forget  the  common  promptings  of  Xature  in  the 
demoniac  hatred  that  strove  only  to  destroy  ! 

The  gunners  in  the  upper  battery  turned  their  guns 
upon  the  suffering  officers  and  seamen  of  the  Mound  City ; 
and  Captain  Fry,  the  Commander  of  the  works,  ordered 
his  sharpshooters  to  kill  ever}^  Yankee  before  he  could 
reach  tlie  shore,  or  succor  could  be  brought. 

The  devilish  enemy  needed  no  second  bidding.  He 
ran  with  alacrity  down  to  the  boat,  and  there,  under 
cover  of  the  trees,  fired  muskets  and  rifles  at  the  wounded 
swimmers  with  a  cool  diabolism  that  a  South  Sea  Islander 
would  have  bluslied  to  witness. 

Many  a  brave  fellow  was  killed  and  sank  in  the  river, 
and  others  were  wounded  several  times  before  they  ob- 
tained the  needful  assistance  from  their  loyal  friends. 

The  Mound  City  was  powerless,  and  drifting  with  the 


THE  EXPEDITION   UP   WHITE   RIVER.  199 

current.     She  could  not  aid  them  ;  and  the  St.  Louis  was 
then  opposite  the  lower  fortifications. 

Tlie  Conestoga,  which  was  just  below  the  Mound  City, 
promptly  lowered  two  of  lier  boats,  and  sent  them  to 
save  the  survivors  of  the  liorrible  accident. 

No  sooner  liad  her  gigs  been  manned,  and  no  sooner 
were  tlie  seamen  pulling  at  their  oars,  on  the  divine  er- 
rand of  mercy,  tlian  tlie  upper  work  opened  its  heavy 
guns  upon  the  succorers  of  distress. 

The  Union  gigs  Avere  struck — one  in  the  bow,  the  other 
in  the  stern  ;  but,  strange  to  say,  they  were  not  swamped, 
nor  Avere  they  prevented  from  rescuing  from  the  river 
some  of  the  ill-fated  crew. 

A  third  boat  from  the  St.  Louis  was  struck  with  Rebel 
shot,  and  shattered ;  but  none  of  the  inmates  were  hurt 
or  drowned. 

The  enemy  was  still  bent  on  his  demonaic  work,  and 
would  have  fired  his  last  cartridge  at  the  defenseless 
sailors,  had  not  the  brave  Indianians,  under  Colonel 
Fitch,  succeeded  by  that  time  in  reaching  the  rear  of  the 
fortifications  that  Captain  Fry  commanded,  and  arrested 
the  fearful  progress  of  deliberate  murder. 

The  Forty-sixth  Indiana  rushed  with  a  shout  and  a 
volley  of  musketry  into  the  hostile  works,  and  then 
charged  with  bayonets  the  inhuman  foe. 

The  Rebels  were  completely  taken  by  surprise.  Before 
they  had  time  to  throw  down  their  arms,  or  cry  for 
quarter,  they  were  lying  in  their  intrenchments  and  their 
life-blood  ebbing  away. 

Some  of  the  Secessionists  fought  with  dogged  obstinacy 
against  superior  numbers,  and  fell  covered  with  ghastly 


200  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

wounds.  Their  'bravery  commands  resi^ect,  but  their 
cruelty  must  forever  dishonor  their  memory. 

Those  of  the  Rebels  along  the  shore  who  had  been 
firing  at  the  Unionists  in  the  water,  were  soon  charged 
upon  by  the  Indianians,  for  whom  they  did  not  wait,  but 
took  to  flight  along  the  bank  toward  the  village  of  St. 
Charles. 

A  portion  of  the  insurgents  ran  to  a  Y)]t\fe  above  where 
the  river  had  been  obstructed,  and,  jumping  into  a  few 
small  boats  they  had  moored  there,  crossed  the  stream 
and  disaj)peared  in  the  woods. 

Tlie  rout  was  complete.  The  victory  was  ours !  but, 
alas,  at  what  a  price  ! 

The  \Vhite  River  by  that  time  began  to  fall  rapidl}^, 
and  on  that  account  the  expedition  returned ;  the  officers 
connnanding  it  having  serious  apprehensions,  if  they 
continued  up  the  stream,  that  their  vessels  would  get 
aground  and  be  lost. 


THE   BRAGCr-BUELL  CAMPAIGN.  201 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  BRAGG-BUELL   CAMPAIGX. 

Trip  from  Louisville  to  Frankfort.— Tlio  Occupation  of  the  Kentucky  Capital  by 
the  Enemy. — Sudden  Conversion  of  Romantic  Women  to  Loyalty. — The  In- 
auguration of  the  Pseudo-Governor. — Sudden  E.vodus  of  the  Usurpers ;  their 
Strange  Self-Delusion. — Bohemians  in  the  Horse-Market. — The  Battle  of  Ber- 
ryvillo. — A  Journalistic  Rebel  Colonel. — Sketcli  of  John  H.  Morgan. 

• 

DuRixG  tlie  Bragg-Buell  Campaign  in  Kentucky,  in 
October,  1862,  when  the  Rebels  partially  occupied  the 
State,  I  learned  at  Louisville,  on  the  evening  of  the  8th 
instant,  that  the  Louisville  and  Frankfort  Railway  had 
been  repaired,  and  that  a  train  would  leave  for  the  Capi- 
tal very  early  the  following  morning.  Consequently,  a 
fellow-Bohemian  and  myself  deemed  it  journalistically 
wise  to  visit  the  recent  scene  of  the  Rebel  occupation. 

On  board  the  cars  we  found  the  morning  papers,  which 
announced  that  John  H.  Morgan,  with  three  thousand 
cavalry,  had  taken  the  town  after  General  SiU's  depart- 
ure, and  still  held  it  in  his  undisputed  possession.  Many 
doubted  the  statement,  while  otliers  affirmed  its  trutli. 
We  concluded  to  solve  the  question  to  our  own  satisfac- 
tion, and  pay  a  visit  to  John  Morgan*  himself  if  we  could 
do  no  better. 

The  people  all  along  the  route  seemed  to  be  very  glad 


202  FOUB  YEARS  IK  SECESSIA. 

to  see  tlie  cars  running  again,  and  to  know  tlie  Rebel 
reign  was  over  in  Kentucky. 

We  reached  tlie  terminus  of  the  running  distance — 
Benson's  Creek,  where  tlie  first  bridge  -was  burned 
down — without  accident  or  interruption.  From  that 
point  we  were  compelled  to  walk,  over  a  ver}'  rough 
road,  more  than  nine  miles  in  the  burning  sun,  which 
was  Summer-like  in  its  heat  in  that  latitude  ;  and  at 
last  we  came  in  sight  of  Frankfort,  and  beheld  our  cav- 
alry on  the  heights  about  the  place,  having  seen  no 
bands  of  marauders,  or  guerrillas,  except  one  fellow 
across  the  river,  who  was  skulking  behind  trees  and 
firing  his  rifle  at  those  who  ]Dassed  within  his  range. 

Arriving  in  the  city,,  we  learned  that  it  had  been  reoc- 
upied  by  the  foe  the  night  previous  about  an  hour  ;  but 
that  he  had  pi-ecipitately  retreated  before  General  Du- 
monf  s  advance. 

At  the  "Governor's"  inauguration  in  Frankfort,  Oc- 
tober 4th,  a  number  of  good-looking  and  well-dressed 
women  from  Fayette,  Woodford,  and  Scott  counties*  were 
present,  and  caused  more  enthusiasm  than  the  masculine 
traitors  tliemselves. 

A  number  of  the  young  and  romantic  women  of  Ken- 
tucky, present  on  the  day  of  the  pseiicio-inauguration, 
strange  to  say,  saw  the  Southern  soldiers  for  the  first 
time,  and  expressed  themselves  greatly  disgusted  with 
them.  They  were  not  at  all  what  they  had  exp(?cted. 
They  had  been  told,  and  believed,  that  the  Southern 
troops  were  composed  of  the  true  chivalry  of  the  Cotton 
States ;  of  j'oung  men  of  birth,  education,  and  fortune. 
They  thought  they  were  handsome  fellows,  who  could 


THE  1]KAGG-BUELL   CAMrAlCiX.  203 

talk  Poetry  and  Sontiraent  to  them  ;  wlio  would  walk 
with  them  tenderly  by  mooiiliglit  alone,  and  kiss  them 
sweetly  and  artistically  under  its  rays.  How  terribly 
were  the  imaginative  darlings  disenchanted  I 

"Were  those  ragged,  soiled,  and  plebeian  breasts  the 
kind  they  were  to  lean  upon,  and  to  nestle  their  luxuri- 
ous tresses  in  ? 

Were  those  thin  and  pallid,  or  coarse  and  bloated  lips, 
the  ones  they  were  to  kiss 

"In  ecstasy  supreme  and  rhapsody  divine"?.  •>> 

Were  those  rough,  harsh,  vulgar  voices  the  dulcet 
tones  that  were  to  tell  them  of  Petrarch's  love  and 
Eloisa's  passion  ?    Alas  !    'No  !    Their  dream  was  over. 

Secession  was  stripped  of  its  meretricious  tinsel,  and  the 
army  of  the  South  lost  its  attraction  in  the  eyes  of  the 
romantic  girls  at  a  glance'.  They  were  cured — they  were 
converted ;  and  many  of  them  who,  two  weeks  before, 
were  the  fairest  and  stanchest  of  Rebels,  became  the 
truest  and  most  devoted  of  Unionists.  They  cleansed 
themselves  from  Secession  in  the  pure  stream  of  ISTation- 
ality,  and  the  aroma  of  Loyalty  (to  speak  after  the 
manner  of  Kentucky)  added  a  new  sweetness  to  the 
graceful  motions  of  their  fascinating  forms. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  Rebels,  when  in  Frank- 
fort, declared  and  believed  they  could  not  be  driven  from 
Kentucky ;  that  they  would  remain  in  the  State  as  long 
as  they  desired,  let  the  Yankees  do  what  they  could  to 
dislodge  them.  "  Governor"  Hawes  had  made  his 
arrangements  to  occupy  the  gubernatorial  mansion,  and 


204  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

the  family  of  Governor  Magoffin  were  preparing  to  leave 
the  premises  on  his  account. 

"Governor"  Hawes's  speech,  read  from  manuscrijDt, 
was  a  most  lame  and  impotent  effort.  He  is  very  old, 
has  a  cracked  and  unpleasant  voice,  and  tliis,  with  his 
stammering,  and  hesitation,  and  nervousness,  rendered 
his  address  painful  to  lii^ar  and  ridiculous  to  remember. 

Wlien  the  courier  entered  the  Capital  during  the  inau- 
gural ceremonies,  and  informed  General  Buckner  of  the 
approach  of  Dumont's  forces,  and  the  intelligence  was 
whispered  around  to  the  chief  consj)irators,  the  august 
assembl}^  suddenly  dispersed  in  great  confusion.  Rich- 
ard Hawes  is  said  to  have  displayed  the  locomotive 
capacity  of  youth  in  his  departure.  No  one  supposed  a 
man  in  the  vicinity  of  seventy  could  have  manifested  so 
much  physical  energy  and  vigor  as  he  did  on  that  memo- 
rable occasion. 

If  the  old  gentleman  could  have  run  as  well  for,  as  he 
did  from,  the  Governorship,  he  would  have  been  Chief 
Executive  of  Kentuck}'"  many  years  ago. 

"While  the  Rc^bels  were  in  Frankfort,  the  people  were 
cut  off  from  all  intelligence,  and  had  no  idea  of  what  was 
going  on  around  them.  They  saw  no  papers,  not  even 
those  from  Louisville,  though  the  "Confederate"  officers 
received  them  daily.  They  circulated  and  insisted  upon 
the  truth  of  the  most  absurd  stories.  McClellan  was 
dead ;  "WasJiington  and  Baltimore  had  been  captured ; 
Lincoln  had  fled  to  Pliiladelphia  ;  Louisville  and  Cincin- 
nati had  been  surrendered  ;  Union  Commissioners  had 
gone  to  Richmond  under  a  flag  of  truce,  to  sue  for  peace, 
with  kindred  and  equally  improbable  statements. 


THE  BRAGG-BUELL  CAMPAIGN.  205 

So  far  did  the  Secessionists  cany  their  system  of  de- 
ceiDtion  and  falsehood,  that  they  caused  a  fictitious  Lou- 
isville Journal  to  be  printed  at  Lexington,  and  circulat(^d 
among  tlieir  troops  and  the  citizens  of  that  vicinity.  This 
sham  sheet  was  full  of  telegrams,  letters,  and  editorials 
of  the  most  startling  character,  all  of  which  went  to  prove 
that  the  cause  of  the  Union  was  utterly  hopeless. 

Persons  who  saw  the  Lexington  publication  say  it  bore 
a  striking  resemblance  to  the  Journal;  that  its  type- was 
similar  ;  many  of  the  advertisements  were  the  same  ;  and 
on  the  whole  it  was  very  well  calculated  to  deceive 
casual  readers. 

******* 

During  the  Bragg-Buell  campaign  in  Kentucky,  sev- 
eral of  us  Bohemians  endeavored  to  procure  horses  in 
Louisville,  and  encountered  many  difficulties  in  so  doing. 
Hiring  a  horse  was  impossible  ;  and  buying  any  one 
that  I  had  seen  for  sale  in  the  city  seemed  a  hazardous 
speculation,  as  none  of  them  conveyed  the  impression 
that  they  would  last  till  they  got  out  of  the  lines. 

Their  owners  said  they  were  not  exactly  "first-class 
animals;"  that  they  had  a  few  slight  ailments,  such  as 
spavin,  stringhalt,  botts,  blind-staggers,  scratches,  ring- 
bone, and  that,  in  some  cases,  they  appeared  addicted 
to  stumbling  over  their  own  shadow ;  and,  indeed,  to  all 
manner  of  equine  eccentricities— save  the  foible  of  run- 
ning away ;  but  that,  with  those  exceptions,  they  were  as 
good  horses  as  could  be  found  in  Kentucky. 

One  morning  I  chanced  to  discover  a  very  good-look- 
ing horse  of  the  gentler  sex ;  plump,  round,  and  well 
conditioned,  and  had  agreed  to  purchase  her.     Going  to 


200  FOUR   YEARS   IN   SECESSL\. 

close  tlie  "bargain  in  tlie  afternoon,  I  learned,  to  my  cha- 
grin, tliat  the  poor  creature  liad  duplicated  herself — a 
probability  I  had  before  suspected,  and  suggested  to  the 
'jockey,  who  stoutly  denied  any  such  reflection  on  the 
aninial'  s  character. 

Then,  however,  facts  visible  to  the  naked  eye  spoke 
for  themselves.  But  the  jockey  insisted  on  his  honesty, 
and  vowed  the  case  to  be  one  of  immaculate  conception. 

Baying  a  horse  at  that  time  and  place  w^as  a  ponderous 
business — something  approximating  the  superhuman. 

If  Hercules  aad  then  attempted  the  purchase  of  a  steed 
in  Louisville,  he  Avould  have  failed. 

He  could  cleanse  the  Augean  Stables,  and  slay  the 
Lernsean  Hydra ;  but  he  would  have  found  an  equine 
expedition  quite  another  affair.  For  four  full  days  sev- 
eral of  us  Correspondents  were  engaged  in  the  horse  busi- 
ness, and  we  succeeded  at  last  in  purchasing  them  ;  but 
that  was  not  half  the  labor. 

We  needed  saddles,  bridles,  and  other  equipments. 
We  obtained  them,  and  were  on  the  eve  of  starting, 
when  we  discovered  that  our  animals  wanted  shoeing. 
For  fifteen  hours  the  shoeing  process  went  on,  and  then 
was  not  finished.  During  that  period,  the  horses  had 
broken  their  halters,  gone  lame,  and  become  out  of  order 
generally. 

Still,  we  did  not  despair.  We  hoped  to  get  off  during 
the  Autumn — horses,  saddles,  shoes,  blankets,  Bohe- 
mians, and  all. 

'^Several  of  our  party  had  grown  sick  from  delay,  vexa- 
tion, and  annoyance,  and  were  unable  to  take  the  ride 
after  the  Rebels. 


THE   JUIAGG-BUELL  CAMPAIGN.  20T 

Our  steeds,  I  fancy,  had  all  the  ills  that  horse-flesh  has 
been  heir  to  since  the  primeval  steed  was  christened  bj 
Father  Adam.  They  were  cheap  animals — that  is,  we  had 
not  paid  more  than  six  times  their  value  (and  they  were 
warranted  sound  for  the  piice)— which  guarantee  meant 
that,  if  very  tenderly  treated,  they  would  go  a  mile  a  day 
and  recover  from  the  exertion. 

I  was  assured  my  horse  was  less  than  a  hundred  yeai-s 
old,  and  that  he  gave  fair  warning  before  he  fell  down. 
AVho  says  he  was  not  a  good  steed  ? 

From  his  peculiar  gait  and  idiosyncrasy  of  manner,  I 
am  led  to  believe  he  had  served  a  long  and  faithful  ap- 
prenticeship in  a  tread-mill,  for  he  had  a  delightful 
habit  of  going  round  and  round,  in  a  manner  exceedingly 
suggestive  of  that  or  some  other  kindred  avocation.  If 
my  sus23icions  were  baseless,  and  the  Pythagorean  doe- 
trine  true,  the  soul  of  my  horse  must  formerly  have 
inhabited  the  body  of  a  servant-girl  addicted  to  wooden 
shoes  and  waltzing. 

All  our  horses  were  atrocious.  Each  one  had  his 
specific  peculiarity ;  but  they  all  had  one  common  ge- 
neric peculiarit}^ — that  of  not  being  worth  a  d — n. 

No  danger  of  those  nags  being  seized  by  guerrilla% 
who  would  not  have  caj)tured  them  if  they  had  been 
paid  for  it. 

******* 

The  battle-field  of  Perryville  I  visited  a  few  days  after 
the  fight.  It  extends  over  a  distance  of  ten  miles,  and 
its  appearance  at  that  time  did  not  indicate  a  very  fierce 
contest.  The  principal  part  of  the  fighting,  however, 
was  confined  to  an  area  of  less  than  a  mile  square,  and 


208  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

was  marked  by  numerous  graves  of  men  avIio  died  the 
death  of  heroes,  but  have  left  no  heroes'  fame. 

The  ground  is  rolling,  somewhat  similar  to  that  of  Wil- 
son's  Creek,  though  more  favorable  for  a  general  engage- 
ment. Every  few  hundred  yards  there  is  rising  ground  ; 
and  upon  those  swells  different  batteries  were  placed, 
giving  free  scope  for  mowing  down  the  advancing  col- 
umns of  infantry.  The  severest  struggle  occurred  in  the 
open  country,  where  there  was  little  timber,  though  the 
small  hills  immediately  adjacent  were  covered  with  sol- 
diers, who,  at  so  short  a  range,  did  much  execution  with 
the  musket.  There  could  have  been  little  advantage  of 
ground,  except  that  the  Rebels  had  a  creek  and  much 
broken  land  in  their  rear. 

The  dead  had  all  been  buried ;  and  beyond  the  fresh 
heaps  of  earth,  the  fragments  of  clothing,  and  the  car- 
casses of  horses,  there  was  nothing  to  tell  the  visitor  of  a 
general  engagement.  The  appearance  of  the  place  mdi- 
cated  little  more  than  a  brisk  skirmish.  I  have  seen  bat- 
tle-fields which  gave  more  evidence  of  a  fierce  contest, 
months  subsequent  to  the  event,  than  Perryville  did 
only  a  few  days  after  the  fight. 

^  The  trees  were  rarely  scarred,  though  here  and  there 
one  saw  a  tall  hickory  from  which  the  bark  was  ripped, 
or  an  oak  whose  branches  had  been  cut  off  by  the  shells 
and  cannon-balls.  The  houses  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood were  struck  frequently  by  the  projectiles  ;  and 
even  those  in  town  were  pierced  by  the  artillery. 

When  myself  and  companions  visited  the  field,  it 
looked  as  peaceful  and  pleasant  as  though  no  warrior's 
foot  had  ever  pressed  the  undulating  soil.     The  country 


THE  BRAGG-BUELL  CAMPAIGN.  209 

suiTounding  is  picturesque,  and  the  landscape  lay  bathed 
and  beautiful  in  the  warm  October  sunshine.  Silence 
reigned  on  the  hill  and  in  the  valley,  and  the  shrunken 
creek  looked  like  one  of  those  "rural  scenes"  artists 
represent  contiguous  to  an  idle  and  deserted  mill,  with 
cattle  on  the  brink,  lowing,  with  partially  slaked  thirst, 
to  the  sultry  Summer. 

The  battle  of  Perryville  is  one  of  the  most  inexplicable 
military  events  of  the  War,  so  far  as  our  army  is  con- 
cerned. I  have  no  disposition  at  this  late  day  to  find 
fault  with  any  one ;  but  the  conduct  of  General  Buell  in 
permitting  nearly,  if  not  the  whole,  of  Bragg' s  forces  to 
engage  a  portion  of  ours,  and  refusing  to  give  our  regi- 
ments, when  they  stood  there  burning  to  rush  into  the 
contest,  permission  to  re-enforce  their  overpowered  com- 
panions in  arms,  is  to  my  mind,  and  to  that  of  nearly 
every  Union  officer  who  was  on  that  field,  beyond  the 
power  of  satisfactory  explanation. 

Bragg' s  army  ought  to,  and  could,  have  been  almost 
annihilated  on  that  very  spot.  The  opportunity  was 
golden,  and  could  not  be  regained.  If  ever  there  was  a 
place  where  a  skillful  General  would  have  desired  to 
meet  an  opposing  force — if  ever  there  Avere  circumstances 
that  seemed  to  promise  a  crushing  victory,  tliat  place  was 
Perrvville,  and  those  circumstances  tlie  surroundings 
and  situation  and  laateriel  and  morale  of  our  army. 

Buell  and  his*  friends  have  endeavored  to  give  a  solu- 
tion of  tlie  mystery  of  Perryville  ;  but  they  have  only 
made  the  darkness  deeper.     I  have  never  known  so  uni 
versal  an  expression  of  disapprobation— to  use  a  very 
mild  term— of  any  General  as  there  was  of  Buell  on  the 


210  FOUR   YEAPwS  IN   SECESSIA. 

part  of  his  army  after  that  battle.  I  should  not  like  to 
re2:)eat  the  terms  of  opprobrium  that  were  employed  to- 
ward him  ;  but  I  must  say  that  every  one  of  his  officers, 
from  Generals  to  Second  Lieutenants,  and  even  the  non- 
commissioned officers  and  privates,  were  so  entirely  dis- 
satisfied with  him,  after  they  had  been  compelled  to  give 
up  the  pursuit  of  the  enemy,  that  it  was  deemed  abso- 
lutely necessary,  for  the  sake  of  subordination,  to  super- 
sede their  commander-in-chief. 

■*  *  *  ^c  •»  •*  * 

Lieutenant-Colonel  James  O.  Nixon,  formerly  editor 
and  proprietor  of  the  New  Orleans  Orescent^  was  acting 
Colonel  of  Scott's  Louisiana  Cavalry  during  the  cam- 
paign in  Kentucky.  Nixon  has  had  some  queer  experi- 
ences, and  not  of  the  most  agreeable  character  either. 
Eighteen  months  before,  he  was  supposed  to  be  worth 
five  hundred  thousand  dollars ;  was  the  principal  pro- 
prietor of  the  Crescent^  then  a  very  valuable  journal,  and 
an  owner  of  a  great  deal  of  real  estate  ;  but  when  with 
Bragg,  as  he  himself  stated,  he  was  not  worth  enough  to 
buy  a  beggar's  coat. 

Nixon  I  very  well  remember  in  New  Orleans,  some 
years  ago,  as  a  very  pleasant,  good-looking  fellow,  ex- 
ceedingly well  dressed,  and  affecting  the  elegant  and  lux- 
urious to  a  ver}'  large  degree — a  hori  tnDant  and  fashion- 
able man  of  the  world. 

The  "Eevolution"  revolutionized  him,  certainly,  and 
converted  him  into  a  ragged,  desperate  Rebel,  with  a 
dead  Past  behind,  and  a  dark  Future  before  him.  Still, 
when  such  men  can  endure  what  he  endured  for  a  bad 
cause, — and  endure  it  too  with  patience  and  cheerfulness 


THE   BRAGG-BUELL   CAMPAIGN.  211 

as  he  did, — it  speaks  well  for  their  earnestness  and  their 

inverted  heroism. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

If  there  was  one  man  more  detested  and  admired  than 
another  in  Fayette  County,  Kentucky,  in  1862,  it  was 
Jolin  H.  Morgan,  a  foiTner  resident  of  Lexington.  The 
Unionists  hated  him  as  they  did  his  Satanic  Majesty  ;  and 
the  Secessionists  were  disposed  to  apotheosize  him  for 
what  the  Loyalists  regarded  as  his  villany.  Morgan 
made  his  name  a  terror  in  Kentucky,  and  gained  a  wide- 
spread fame  for  daring,  energy,  and  skill  as  a  military 
leader,  though  he  did  very  little  to  merit  sucli  a  reputation. 

Beyond  the  commission  of  outrages  on  defenseless  per- 
sons, and  wholesale  plunderings  in  unguarded  neighbor- 
hoods, he  performed  few  acts  that  should  have  entitled 
him  to  the  consideration  even  of  the  "Confederates." 
He  and  his  men  knew  how  to  steal  good  horses,  and  to 
procure  fresh  ones  when  the  old  ones  were  exhausted ; 
and  by  that  means  he  was  enabled  to  move  rapidly  from 
point  to  point  to  some  undisturbed  field  of  plunder. 
Deprived  of  that  peculiar  forte,  he  became  nothing  save 
Jo]|n  ]\Iorgan  the  sporting-man,  an  unprincipled  and  a 
common  swaggerer. 

Morgan  had  some  notoriety  as  a  libertine,  and  is  said 
to  have  cruelly  wronged  several  poor  and  unbefriended 
girls  in  that  vicinity ;  which,  perhaps,  accounts  for  the 
worship  rendered  him  by  the  feminine  Rebels  in  Lexing- 
ton during  tlie  hey-day  of  Secessionism  in  that  State. 

It  has  been  said  that  women  love  best  the  men  who 
wrong  them  most,  and  Morgan  appears  to  have  been  a 
shining  verification  of  the  aphorism. 


212  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

When  the  War  broke  -out,  no  woman  who  had  any 
self-respect  would  have  suffered  him  to  approach  her — 
and  yet,  two  years  after,  those  who  assumed  to  be  fine 
ladies  crowned  him  with  garlands,  and  vied  with  each 
other  for  the  honor  of  the  attentions  of  a  somewhat 
romantic  ruffian  and  a  common  black-leg. 

Secession  makes  wonderful  revolutions  in  petticoats. 
Feminine  voices,  modulated  to  sweetness  by  culture  and 
refinement,  proclaimed  him  hero,  whom — a  little  while 
before — to  have  recognized  would  have  been  degrada- 
tion. 

So  much  for  Success!  It  is  the  world's  fascinater, 
and  the  bender  of  unwilling  knees. 


THE  RAM  ARKANSAS.  213 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE  RAM  ARKANSAS  DEFYING  OUR  FLEET. 

I'he  Expedition  up  the  Yazoo.— Unexpected  Meeting  of  the  Rebel  Monster.— 
Her  Engagement  with  the  Union  Vessels. — Their  Discomfiture  and  Retreat. — 
Her  Passage  of  the  Union  Flotilla. — Her  Exposure  to  a  Terrible  Fire. — Ex- 
plosion on  Board  the  Lancaster. — Casualties  on  both  Sides. — Bohemian  Re- 
flections on  Running  Batteries. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  siege  of  Vicksburg,  in 
July,  1862,  the  famous  Rebel  ram  and  gunboat  Aman- 
sas  ran  down  the  Yazoo  into  the  Mississippi,  and  by  the 
entire  Union  Flotilhi.  Her  intention  was  to  descend  the 
river  by  night,  but  she  was  unavoidably  delayed.  Her 
officers  had,  of  course,  been  fuUy  informed  by  spies  and 
scouts  of  the  situation  of  Farragut's  and  Davis's  vessels, 
and  of  the  fact  that  they  did  not  have  up  steam,  on  ac- 
count of  the  sickness  on  the  Fleet  and  the  excessive  heat 
of  the  weather. 

The  famous  and  formidable  gunboat  Arkansas,  of 
which  the  enemy  had  been  boasting  for  months,  which 
was  run  off  from  Memphis  in  an  unfinished  state  and 
towed  up  the  Yazoo,  was  discovered  by  us  on  the  15th 
of  July — if  not  to  our  sorrow,  at  least  to  our  intense  mor- 
tification. 

The  Arkansas  was  no  myth,  as  many  had  begun  to 
bqjieve :  her  strength  and  power  of  resistance  were  no 


214  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

.idle  boast.  She  did  the  things  of  which  the  foe  affinned 
her  capable.  She  surely  bearded  the  lion  in  his  den — 
the  Douglas  irl  his  hall. 

Think  of  her — with  twelve  guns,  running  the  block- 
ade of  fourteen  or  fifteen  vessels  of  war  and  several 
armed  rams,  with  nioie  tlian  twice  an  liundred  guns! 
Was  it  not  delightfull}^  refreshingly  daring  ? 

The  powder  gunboat  Tj^ler,  Captain  AVilliam  Gwin, 
and  tlie  steam  ram  Queen  of  the  West,  Captain  Joseph 
Ford,  started  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  on  a  recon- 
noissance  up  the  Yazoo,  designing  to  go  as  far  as  Liver- 
pool Landing,  sixty -five  miles  from  the  mouth,  to  deter- 
mine the  character  of  the  Ri^bel  defenses  there,  and  learn, 
if  possible,  something  of  the  condition  of  the  far-famed 
Arkansas,  claimed  b}'^  many  to  be  equal  in  impenetrabil- 
ity to  the  world-renowned  Merrimac.  Another  Corre- 
spondent and  myself  had  made  arrangements  to  go  on  the 
expedition,  but  were  a  feAV  seconds  too  late  ;  the  vessels 
having  started  half  an  hour  before  the  appointed  time. 

From  the  best  information  we  had  been  able  to  gather 
on  the  Fleet,  it  was  believed  that  the  Rebel  gunboat  was 
still  unfinished,  and  lying  aground  in  the  Yazoo  above 
the  blockade,  with  no  probability  of  making  her  appear- 
ance during  the  War. 

The  Carondelet,  Captain  Henry  Walke,  accompanied 
the  gunboat  and  ram  as  far  as  the  mouth  of  Yazoo  River, 
and  then  took  her  jiosition,  while  her  two  companions 
ascended  the  stream.  The  latter  had  not  gone  more  than 
six  miles  before  they  discovered  a  strange-looking  craft . 
descending,  which  they  could  not  make  out.  It  was 
thought  she  must  be  a  tug  ;  but  surely  there  never  was 


THE   RAM   ARKANSAS.  215 

sncli  a  qiieor  tug  before.  Her  appearance  was  anoma- 
lous, and  glasses  were  directed  toward  her  witli  little 
advantage.  She  was  moving  rapidly  down,  and  the 
conclusion  was  reached  that  she  must  be  the  Arkansas — 
she  could  be  nothing  else. 

After  that  little  speculation,  the  stranger  was  within  a 
hundred  and  fiftj^  yards  of  the  Tyler,  and  that  there 
might  be  no  doubt  of  her  intentions  and  character,  she 
fired  a  large  gun  at  the  gunboat,  but  did  not  strike  her. 
The  Tyler  fired  in  return,  and  was  rounding  to,  to  give  a 
broadside  to  the  enemy,  but  could  not  do  so  for  lack  of 
time.  The  foe  was  almost  at  her  stern,  and  discharged 
two  of  her  guns  Avitli  their  muzzles  almost  resting  against 
the  Union  vessel's  side.  The  Tyler  backed  for  a  little 
distance  and  fired  several  times,  giving  herself  full  leis- 
ure and  oj)portunity  to  perceive  her  antagonist  was  a 
powerful  iron-clad  ship  that  could  every  way  over- 
match her. 

There  was  no  hope  of  success  in  such  an  unequal 
struggle,  and  Captain  Gwin,  a  most  gallant  officer,  whose 
valor  and  patriotism  had  been  proved  by  the  severest 
tests,  concluded  to  save  his  men,  if  possible,  by  out-run- 
ning the  Arkansas. 

The  Tyler's  bow  was  soon  down  stream,  and  the 
Arkansas  very  little  behind  her,  firing  rapidly,  and  the 
pursued  replying  with  her  stern-guns  coolly  and  regu- 
larly. Th(3  Tyler's  shot  seemed  to  have  little,  if  nny, 
effect  upon  the  Rebel,  while  the  latter' s  fire  was  often 
destructive,  entering  the  Unionist's  sides,  and  piercing 
her  timbers,  and  sending  showers  of  splinters  over  her 
deck.  • 


216  •  FOtJR  YEAKS  IN  SECESSIA.       . 

Before  the  Tyler  had  reached  tlie  mouth  of  Yazoo 
River,  eight  of  her  men  were  kiUed,  and  seventeen 
wounded.  Five  of  the  sailors'  iieads  were  shot  entirely 
oif  by  a  single  ball  from  th(^  enemy,  and  the  unfortunate 
fellows  fell  together — a  bloody,  deformed,  and  hideous 
mass  of  quivering  death. 

The  Queen  of  the  West,  seeing  the  Tyler  turn  from  her 
enemy,  and  observing  that  the  Rebel  was  a  powerful 
ram  as  well  as  gunboat,  knew  it  would  be  useless  to 
attempt  to  butt  her  adversary.  Besides,  as  she  was 
under  the  command  of  the  gunboat,  and  saw  her  consort 
avoiding  the  action,  she  thought  it  proper  to  imitate  her 
example. 

The  Arkansas  had  an  immense  wrought-iron  prow  or 
beak,  weighing  several  tons — before  which  the  little 
wooden  ram  could  have  offered  no  more  resistance  than 
a  paper  boat. 

The  Tyler  and  Queen  passed  rapidly  out  of  the  Yazoo 
River,  to  give  the  fleet  in  the  Mississippi  warning  of  the 
approach  of  the  Arkansas  ;  but  as  soon  as  they  appeared 
above  the  bend  the  cause  of  their  early  return  was  sus- 
pected. The  heavy  firing  had  been  heard  for  an  hour, 
and  as  it  grew  louder  and  louder,  it  was  evident  that  our 
vessels  must  have  met  a  formidable  and  powerful  foe. 

The  Carondelet,  Captain  Henry  Walke,  saw  and  knew 
her  antagonist  at  once,  but  determined  to  give  her  battle, 
and  she  did  so  in  the  most  gallant  style. 

The  Union  vessel  sent  several  shots  against  the  mailed 
sides  of  her  foe  as  she  advanced,  but  did  her  no  appa- 
rent harm.  The  Arkansas  answered  with  heavy  and 
metallic  voiq^,  and  her  responses  told  fearfully  on  the 


TUE  RAM  ARKANSAS.  '  217 

valiant    craft,    whose    ofRcers,   however,    were    nothing 
daunted  by  their  powerful  antagonist. 

Before  the  third  Rebel  shot,  a  number  of  the  crew  were 
I  killed  and  wounded  on  the  Carondelet,  which,  during  a 
spirited  engagement  of  ten  minutes,  lost  nine  men  in 
killed,  and  twenty-two  wounded,  and  three  missing. 
One  of  the  hostile  shots  severed  some  part  of  her  ma- 
chinery, and,  causing  the  steam  to  escape,  so  alarmed  a 
portion  of  the  crew,  that  they  jumped  overboard,  to 
avoid,  as  they  supposed,  being  scalded  to  death. 

As  soon  as  Captain  Walke  perceived  he  could  not  in- 
jure the  Arkansas  with  his  guns,  he  resolved  to  board 
her,  and  gave  the  order,  which  hardly  passed  his  lips, 
when  the  Unionist  ran  along  aside,  and  a  brave  band 
leaped  on  the  narrow  deck  of  the  enemy. 

But  every  thing  was  iron-proof,  and  tightly  closed. 
Only  the  ports  and  loop-holes  were  open  for  the  sharp- 
shooters. After  endeavoring  in  vain  to  get  inside  the 
Arkansas,  for  some  minutes,  the  seamen  were  forced  to 
return,  dispirited  and  chagrined,  to  their  own  boat. 

A  few  more  shots  were  exchanged  ;  when  the  Arkansas 
made  off,  and  hastened  so  rapidly  down  the  river,  that 
the  Carondelet,  in  her  ciippled  condition,  could  not  fol- 
low her. 

Very  soon  after,  tlie  dangerous  enemy  was  seen  coming 
with  diminished  speed  towards  the  Fleet ;  very  few  of  the 
vessels  having  steam  up,  and  the  rams  themselves  carry- 
ing little  more  than  enough  to  make  head  against  the  cur- 
rent. Every  officer  on  the  Flotilla  was  anxious  to  see  if  the 
Arkansas  would  have  the  temerity  to  attempt  running 
by  the  entire  cordon  of  Union  ships.     She  left  thein  little 


218  FOUR   YEARS   IN"  SECESSIA. 

time  to  doubt.  Slie  moved  on  in  a  measured  and  deliber- 
ate manner,  and  in  a  direct  line. 

As  she  passed  the  rams,  the  Lancaster,  Avith  only  sixty 
pounds  of  steam,  attempted  to  butt  her;  but,  before  she 
could  place  herself  in  position  to  do  so,  tlui  Arkansas 
fii'ed  several  times  into  her  side,  wounding  several  of  the 
ram's  crew,  and  exploded  her  mud-receiver. 

The  steam  poured  out  all  over  the  Lancaster,  and  it 
was  thought  her  boiler  had  exploded,  especially  as  she 
began  drifting  down  the  river.  Several  tugs  and  trans- 
ports went  to  her  assistance,  and  towed  her  up  stream, 
when  it  was  discovered  that  two  of  her  negro  deck  hands 
had  been  killed,  six  of  the  men  scalded,  and  two  or  three 
were  missing  ;  the  last  having  been  drowned  by  leaping 
overboard. 

The  Arkansas  continued  her  course  by  the  Hartford 
and  Richmond,  neither  of  which  gave  her  a  broadside, 
though  they  fired  at  ber  repeatedly  ;  passed  the  Oneida, 
Iroquois,  Wissahickon,  Cincinnati,  Sumter,  Bragg,  Essex, 
Benton,  and  all  the  rest.  They  all  fired  at  her  when  she 
was  above,  as  she  went  down,  and  when  she  was  below  ; 
but,  though  heavy  shot  often  struck  her,  they  did  not 
seem  to  injure  her.  Now  she  had  run  the  gantlet,  and 
was  seen  turning  the  bend  ;  and  soon  after  slie  passed 
under  the  guns  of  the  water-batteries  at  Vicksburg, 
reposing  under  the  shade  of  the  laurels  she  had  so  nobly 
won,  and  welcomed  by  every  true  Rebel  heart  in  the 
Rebel  stronghold. 

The  Cincinnati  and  the  Benton  in  fifteen  minutes  got 
up  more  steam,  and  ran  down  the  river,  again  opening 
their  guns  upon  the  batteries  and  the  Arkansas,  both  of 


THE  RAM  ARKANSAS.  219 

which  replied  vigorously.  The  Benton  steamed  immedi- 
ately under  the  enemy' s  guns,  and  was  struck  a  number 
of  times,  three  of  the  shots  passing  into  and  through  her. 
One  of  her  crew  had  his  head  and  a  part  of  his  body  shot 
off  while  holding  the  end  of  a  lanyard,  and  two  others 
were  so  dangerously  wounded,  that  the  surgeon  had  little 
hope  of  their  recovery. 

The  Benton  was  damaged,  but  not  materially.  A  num- 
ber of  the  rooms  on  her  gun-deck  were  completely  riddled, 
and  a  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  pound  shot  passed 
into  her  port  quarter  through  the  Third  Master's  room, 
and  then  through  the  culinary  department,  and  linally  into, 
the  Commodore's  cabin,  where,  after  destroying  a  good; 
deal  of  furniture,  it  very  pacifically  went  to  bed,  and  lay 
upon  the  pillow  on  which,  two  hours  before,  the  Flag-- 
officer  had  been  peacefully  rejDOsing. 

Whether  the  Arkansas  was  injured  or  not  during  the 
fight  was  then  a  matter  of  conjecture  ;  but,  since  then,  I 
have  seen  the  report  of  Lieutenant  Isaac  'N.  Brown,  com- 
manding the  vessel,  which  states  that  she  was  badly  cut 
yp,  her  smoke-stack  and  pilot-house  destroyed,  and  her 
armor  frec[uently  perforated.  Ten  of  her  crew  were  killed; 
outright,  and  eighteen  men,  including  three  of  her  ofiicers> 
were  Avounded.  Those  who  ran  tlie  gantlet  suffered  fear- 
full}^  from  hc\at  and  want  of  air.  Lieutenant  Brown,  who 
has  the  reputation  of  a  very  daring,  and  even  reckless 
man,  is  reported  to  have  said  that  no  consideration  under 
Heaven  would  have  induced  him  to  try  the  terrible  expe- 
riment again. 


Speaking  of  defying  guns  and  fleets  prompts  me  to. 

15 


220  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

give  here,  tlioiigli  somewhat  out  of  place,  the  sensations 
one  experiences  in  scenes  of  peril  such  as  running  bat- 
teries, in  which  interesting  experiments  I  have  liad  my 
share  of  experience  on  the  Mississippi,  and  by  which, 
some  months  before  my  capture,  I  had  the  lionor,  through 
a  very  genteel  Avound,  to  lose  exactly  fourteen  drops  of 
my  sanguineous  fluid. 

That  tlie  sensation  is  pleasurable  in  itself,  I  do  not 
believe  ;  but  tliat  it  is  somewhat  exciting  and  rather  pe- 
culiar, those  who  have  tried  it  will  generally  admit.  The 
fact  that  it  is  dangerous  usually  attracts,  and  th»^  chance 
•of  its  resulting  in  your  quietus,  removes  it  from  the  class 
'Of  vulgar  sensations. 

Most  men  feel  their  greatest  uneasiness  before  the  bat- 
teries they  expect  to  pass  have  opened  fire,  because  un- 
certainty and  anxious  expectation  are  severer  tests  of  the 
nerves  than  any  tangible  reality,  however  horrible. 

Few  cultivated  mortals,  possessed  of  sensibility  and 
imagination,  but  are  capable  of  fear,  though  tlie}^  may 
not  reveal.it.  They  have  a  natural  horror  of  pain  and 
peri],  and  yet  they  possess,  in  most  cases,  pride  and  wilj 
enough  to  overcome  the  weaknesses  of  instinct. 

The}'  are  not  brave,  but  they  may  be  courageous,  and 
.are  so  usually,  when  experience  has  enabled  them  to  cal- 
■  culate  probabilities,  and  taught  them  a  half  indifference 
to  what  they  have  often  escaped  without  harm. 

Wlien  a  man  is  under  the  fire  of  batteries  in  an  un- 
armed A^essel,  and  hears  the  crash  of  timber,  or  the  ex- 
plosion of  a  shell  overhead,  or  the  roar  of  a  round  shot  as 
it  passes  not  far  from  him,  he  begins  to  tliink  he  has  been 
in  more  agreeable  places,  and  contrast  suggests  quiet  and 


TUE   RAM   AltKAXSAS.  221 

pacific  scenes,  wliere  gunpowder  is  not  "burned,  and  the 
trade  of  the  undertaker  is  not  coerced  into  unnatural  ani- 
mation. 

If  he  sees  a  poor  fellow  stricken  down  or  disemboweled 
at  his  side,  or  the  groan  of  a  dying  unfortunate  reaches 
his  keenly  sensitive  ear,  he  can  hardly  resist  a  shudder, 
and  wonders  when  liis  own  turn  will  come. 

But  it  does  not  come,  and  as  the  long  minutes  pass, 
he  begins  to  believe  it  will  not,  though  the  shot  plunge 
about  the  boat  as  before.  At  first  he  was  alarmed ;  then 
he  grew  desperate. 

Now  lie  is  rising  into  coolness,  and  becomes  capable 
of  reasoning  upon  his  situation,  which  seems  far  less  per- 
ilous than  it  did. 

Perhaps  at  no  time  did  the  apprehension  of  death  dis- 
turb him  so  much  as  that  of  a  dreadful  wound  which 
would  cause  intense  suffering. 

If  a  man  in  tlie  midst  of  battle  could  be  certain  that  the 
shot  which  would  reach  him  would  prove  instantaneously 
fatal,  he  would  be  calmer  than  he  is  ;  for  the  idea  of  pain, 
to  a  sensitive  nature,  is  more  cruel  than  death. 

To  a  i)hilosophic  mind,  and  one  capable  of  making  its 
philosophy  practical,  death  must  not  only  be,  but  must 
seem,  unavoidable — something  which,  if  escaped  to-day, 
will  come  to-morrow. 

Xo  human  power  can  avoid  the  di'ead  necessity.  No- 
thing is  certain  on  this  Planet  save  death  ;  and  who  can 
say  it  is  better  to  perish  this  year  or  the  next,  in  youth  or 
old  age  ? 

Most  mortals  are  as  well  prepared,  to  use  an  orthodox 
phrase,  of  very  unsatisfactory  significance,   to  quit  the 


222  FOUPw  YE.VES  IN  SECESSIA. 

world  at  one  time  as  another.  In  fact,  tliey  are  never 
ready  to  go.  There  is  always  something  left  undone — a 
little  delay  is  ever  desirable. 

The  business  of  existence  is  rarely  closed  up  so  that  a 
balance-sheet  may  be  struck  between  the  known  and  the 
unknown. 

Once  life  is  snuffed  out  like  a  candle,  there  is  no  more 
dying,  according  to  the  popular  belief  (though  we  have 
no  more  reason  to  think  this  than  that  we  never  lived  be- 
fore we  entered  the  World),  and  that  ought  to  be  a 
species  of  melancholy  satisfaction. 

]N"o  one  can  unravel  the  future,  whether  it  be  for  good 
or  evil,  happiness  or  misery.  AVhat  is  to  be  will  be ; 
albeit  the  trouble  is  to  determine  how  much  we  are  the 
subjects  of  free  will  and  how  much  of  fate. 

This  sounds  very  speculative  for  a  brain  passing  bat- 
teries ;  but  the  active  mind  will  so  think,  though  it  were 
far  better  not  to  reason  at  all  under  such  circumstances. 

With  the  beginning  of  action,  all  tlionght,  except  that 
conducive  to  action,  should  subside.  Then  there  is 
no  introspection,  no  anticipation  of  unseen  things,  no 
hightening  of  peril,  no  illusion  of  pain. 

But  every  thing  terminates,  and  you  get  out  of  the  bat- 
teries' range,  and  a  new  sensation  fills  you. 

You  feel  more  comfortable,  and  you  marvel  you  were 
not  more  uneasy  than  you  were,  and  at  the  same  moment 
wonder  your  j^ulsc  was  quicker  than  when  sipping 
Chateau  Margaux  at  an  elaborate  dinner. 

How  much  more  peril  you  saw  than  there  was  !  IIow 
many  more  wounds  and  deaths  were  in  your  mind  than 
in  the  assignment  of  Fortune  ! 


THE  RAM  ARKANSAS.  223 

You  do  not  know  wlietlier  you  are  more  like  a  timid 
cliikl  or  a  hero  after  your  experience,  and  you  conclude, 
subsequently,  that  you  little  resemble  either ;  that  men 
are  very  uncertain  animals,  touching  Heaven  and  Earth 
at  tlie  same  time,  and  vibrating  ever  between  Achilles 
and  Thersites — the  angel  and  the  clay. 

It  is  difficult  to  calculate  upon  a  man's  courage,  as  it  is 
called. 

The  boldest  may  be  frightened  at  a  shadow. 

VTii  cease  to  love  ourselves  when  we  comprehenjd  our- 
selves ;  and  yet  we  may  perceive  good  enough  within  to 
engender  contempt  for  others. 

The  philosophic  life  is  but  a  series  of  experiments  upon 
ourselves,  and  though  we  learn  much  therefrom,  the  last 
analysis  brings  nothing  positive,  nothing  absolute  ;  and 
we  are  still  but  an  atom  in  the  sunbeam,  a  sand-grain  on 
the  sea-shore. 

Whether  we  run  batteries  or  stop  bullets,  make  poems 
or  statues,  lead  armies  or  live  in  solitude,  obtain  fame 
or  dwell  unknown  in  the  by-paths,  all  experience  is  un- 
satisfactory, all  possessions  are  poor,  all  honor  worthless. 

^ye  are  ever  drawn  by  the  Ideal,  and  deceived  by  the 
Possible. 

The  blossom  withers  while  we  hold  it :  Love  dies  in 
our  first  embrace :  the  Future,  to  which  we  all  stretch 
out  our  longing  arms,  has  no  existence.  And  yet  what  is 
to  be  will  be  ! 

But  where  is  the  subtle  magician  of  the  mind  who  can 
reveal  to  us  the  pui-poses  of  Fate,  or  illumine  for  a  moment 
the  darkness  that  must  ever  surround  the  Sphere  ? 


2 2 J:  FOUR  YEARS  IX   SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 

PLAXTATIOX   LIFE   IN    TllK  SoUTJL 

Expedition  in  Search  of  Cotton,  Cattle,  and  Guerrillas. — Plantations  along  the 
Mississippi. — An.ticty  of  the  Negroes  for  Freedom. — Sad  .Scenes  on  Shore. — 
An  African  Andromache. — A  Miscegeuated  Southern  Family. 

DuRiXG  tlie  latter  part  of  tlie  siege  of  Vicksburg,  under 
General  Grant,  in  Marcli,  1803,  two  or  tliree  of  tlie  Bohe- 
mians, seeing  no  prospect  of  any  immediate  activity  in. 
that  vicinity,  joined  a  foraging  expedition  up  the  river  in 
quest  of  any  adventures  that  might  result  from  the  trip. 
Consequently,  Tve  steamed  uj)  and  down  the  Father  of 
Waters,  and  wandered  through  Louisiana,  Mississippi, 
and  Arkansas,  looking  out  for  cotton,  cattle,  and  guerrillas. 

Among  other  places,  we  touched  at  the  American  Bend, 
in  Washington  County,  Mississippi. 

The  principal  jilantations  there  were  owned  by  Dr. 
Wm.  W.  Worthiugton  and  his  brother  Samuel,  both  ad- 
vanced in  years,  and  having  four  sons  in  the  insurgent 
army.  They  were  very  wealthy  before  the  Rebellion, 
owning  tliree  plantations  each,  and  some  two  or  three 
hundred  negroes,  many  of  whom  had  been  taken  back 
into  the  swamps  and  to  Texas. 

The  private  residences  and  grounds  of  the  brothers 
Worthingtou  were  far  superior  to  those  one  usually  sees 


TLANTATION  LIFE  IN  THE  SOUTH.  225 

• 
in  tile  South.     Tliey  made  some  assumption  to  comolmess 

as  well  as  comfort,  and  were  on  the  Avhole  rather  pleas- 
ant, Avliieh  must  be  attributed  to  the  fact  of  their  owners 
coming  from  Kentucky,  Avhich  has  been  largely  influenced 
by  the  spirit  and  enterprise  of  the  North. 

"While  at  the  Bend  I  had  frequent  talks  with  the  con- 
trabands, and  found  them  without  exception  most  anxious 
for  freedom.  They  were  willing  to  run  any  risks  ahnost, 
provided  they  could  have  any  assurance  of  escaping 
bondage.  They  manifested  the  utmost  aversion  to 
slavery,  and  declared  they  would  rather  be  free,  if  they 
had  to  toil  harder  and  live  upon  the  merest  pittance  in 
the  North,  than  be  idle  and  live  in  comfort  in  the  South. 

An  elderly  negress,  Harriet  Garratt,  told  me  a  sad 
story,  which,  though  by  no  means  novel,  will,  I  think, 
bear  repetition,  and  which  I  know  to  be  true,  from  the 
names  of  j)ersons,  and  from  circumstances  she  mentioned 
in  Kentucky,  where  I  was  quite  well  acquainted.  She 
belonged  to  a  3'oung  woman  residing  in  Mason  county, 
Kentucky,  and  after  her  mistress's  marriage,  was  taken 
to  Cincinnati,  and  there  manumitted.  Harriet,  hearing 
soon  after  that  her  husband  was  to  be  sent  to  Mississippi, 
determined  to  follow  him,  and  accordingly  accompanied 
liim,  with  her  free  papers  on  her  person. 

Arrived  there,  a  slave-dealer,  one  Hines,  in  whose 
keeping  she  and  her  husband,  with  other  negroes,  Avere, 
discovered  and  destroyed  her  papers,  and  sold  her  to  Dr. 
Worthington,  from  which  time  she  worked  in  the  cotton- 
fields. 

Harriet  was  very  desirous  of  going  North,  and  her  eyes 
moistened  at  the  mere  idea,  though  she  had  long  ceased, 


226  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

elie  said,  to  liope  for  tlie  freedom  of  ■svLicli  die  liad  been 
BO  basely  defrauded.  Her  tale  interested  my  Bohemian 
companion  and  mj'self,  and  Ave  made  an  arrangement  with 
the  captain  of  one  of  the  transports  to  take  Ler  and  her 
youngest  daughter — she  had  three — as  washerwomen. 

The  next  morning  we  visited  the  sable  auntie,  and  com- 
municated the  intellig<?nce  to  her.  She  received  it  with 
delight,  but  with  conflicting  emotions.  Her  eyes  lilled 
with  tears  ;  her  bosom  heaved  ;  she  spoke  witli  difficulty. 
Had  her  nerves  been  more  delicate  she  would  have 
fainted  ;  but  swooning  is  a  pretty  trick  the  unenlightened 
daughters  of  Africa  liave  not  yet  learned.  At  first  she 
poured  out  her  heart  in  gratitude.  She  would  go  at 
once  ;  asked  us  a  liundred  questions  in  as  many  seconds  ; 
told  her  daughter,  who  stood  near,  to  make  ^^reparations 
for  their  departure,  and  was  tremulous  with  excitement, 
laughing  and  weeping  hysterically  b}^  turns. 

In  a  few  minutes,  however,  a  new  idea  seemed  to  enter 
the  old  woman's  mind,  and  a  shadow  fell  upon  her  face 
that  was  visible  even  through  her  sable  skin.  Her  hus- 
band and  her  other  two  daughters,  wiiom  she  had  forgot- 
ten in  the  first  ebullition  of  her  feelings,  had  occurred  to 
her.  ".I  cannot  leab  de  ole  man  and  dem  ere  childern, 
my  good  massas.  Dey  would  grieb  dem  selves  to  deff, 
euah.  I  couldn't  hab  any  joy  in  de  dear  old  Norf  when 
I  knowed  my  ole  man  and  de  gals  was  down  lieah  in 
Dixie  workin'  in  de  cotton  wid  de  hard  lashes  on  deir 
back.  0  no  !  Gawd  bress  you  bofe  for  your  kindness  to 
ole  auntie  ;  but  I  couldn't  do  it.  I  nevah  feel  right  in 
my  heart  if  I  did."  And  the  old  slave  was  silent,  for  her 
voice  was  choked  with  tears,  and  her  frame  trembled  with 
emotion. 


PLANTATION  LIFE  IN  TILE  SOUTH.  227 

Mtmy  other  negroes  of  botli  sexes  stood  near,  as  we 
were  at  the  shive  quarters,  and  tlioiigh  they  did  not  liear 
what  was  said,  they  felt  what  was  passing,  and  looked 
on  in  silence  and  in  sympathy. 

It  was  a  touching  scene— that  struggle  between  love 
and  the  desire  for  freedom,  both  so  natural,  and  yet  so 
opposed— the  yielding  to  one  destroying  the  hope  of  the 
other. 

Most  gladly  would  we  have  furnished  to  auntie  and 
her  whole  family  the  means  of  going  North  ;  but  we  could 
not.  AVe  had  no  power.  We  had  done  all  we  could ; 
and  so  we  told  her.  "  I  knows  dat,  my  young  massas," 
she  sobbed  out.  "  Yon's  bery  good.  I'se  bery  taukful. 
God  bress  you  !'' 

I  lay  no  claim  to  religion,  as  it  is  usually  understood, 
and  see  little  meaning  in  theological  terminology  ;  but 
there  was  an  earnestness  in  the  woman's  benediction  that 
was  not  without  its  impressiveness. 

Many  a  time  I  have  heard  "  God  bless  yon  !"  which 

"  By  daily  use  hath  almost  lost  its  sense," 

and  from  lips  that  were  fresh  with  youth  and  rosy  with 
beauty  ;  but  the  celestial  invocation,  I  am  sure,  never 
came  from  a  more  grateful  heart,  or  fell  from  a  tongue, 
alb)eit  uneducated,  more  sincere  in  its  impassioned  ut- 
terance. 

When  the  devotion  of  this  poor  ignorant  negress  to  her 
husband  and  children  was  made  so  pathetically  manifest, 
I  could  not  help  but  contrast  it  with  the  connuT)ial  anc^ 
maternal  f(M'ling  of  many  of  the  fair  daughters  of  Fortune, 
the  darling  favorites  of  Society,  who  lounge  on  satin  sofas, 


228  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

or  tread  witli  daiiit}^  feet  the  luxurious  boudoirs  of  Fifth 
Avenue  or  Madison  Square. 

-X-  ■/:  *  *  *  * 

Finding  it  very  difficult  to  obtain  cattle  at  the  Amciican 
Bend,  Ave  returned  below  to  Sunny-side  Landing,  Arkan- 
sas, ho])iiig  tohave  ourquest  there  rewarded.  At  that  ])lace, 
veryiu^ar  the  Northern  Louisiana  line,  was  the  ])hintation 
of  a  third  brother  of  the  Worthingtons  I  have  mentioned. 
His  name  was  Elisha,  and  he  had  never  been  married, 
though  he  had  availed  himself  of  the  recognized  succeda- 
neum  of  the  South,  having,  many  years  before,  taken  as 
liis  nuptress  the  daughter  of  a  Choctaw  Indian  and  a  ne- 
gress,  and  admitted  her  to  all  the  privileges  and  advan- 
tages supposed  to  belong  to  the  uxorial  state. 

That  gentleman  of  rare  taste  and  choice  morals  had  two 
children— a  son  and  daughter — 2:)robably  eighteen  and 
seventeen  years  old,  whom  he  educated  in  Oliio,  and  sent 
to  Europe,  but  who  still  bore  the  ajipearance  and  some- 
thing of  the  manners  of  the  native  African.  They  lived 
in  their  father's  mansion,  one  of  the  most  comfortable  I 
have  seen  in  Arkansas,  keeping  house  for  him  during  his 
absence  in  Texas,  wliithe^  he  went  last  June,  after  the 
fall  of  Memphis.  He  was  a  notorious  Rebel,  and  fled 
from  what  he  believed  to  be  the  Yankee  wrath,  knowing, 
no  doubt,  far  better  than  we,  how  well  he  deserved 
hano;in2;. 


THE  CAPTURE,  229 


CHAPTER  XXXIIL 

CAPTURE   OF   TUE  TRIBUNE   CORRESPONDENTS. 

Reflections  on  our  Return  to  Freedom. — The  Effect  of  Imprisonment. — Rapidity 
of  Restoration  to  One's  Normal  Condition. — Running  the  Batteries  of  Vicks- 
burg. — Incidents  of  the  Undertaking. — Terrible  Fire  from  the  Rebel  Strong- 
hold.— Complete  Wreck  of  our  Expedition. — Brilliant  Prospects  for  Dying. — 
Adventures  of  the  Bohemians. — Grotesque  Appearance  of  the  Prisoners. 

Not  many  weeks  ago,  wlien  the  author  dwelt  in  the 
midst  of  Filth  and  Misery,  Despair  and  Death ;  when 
those  had  been  his  constant  companions  for  long  and 
wearisome  mouths,  and  dreary  seasons  that  knew  no 
change ;  it  seemed  as  if  no  other  than  a  prison-life  had 
been  his — that  Freedom,  Beauty,  Abundance,  Pleasure, 
were  mere  ideals  of  an  aspiring  soul,  and  had  only  shone 
upon  the  soft  landscape  of  his  dearest  dreams. 

Even  so  does  the  Past  now  shrink  before  the  Present. 
The  by-gone  horrors  appear  phantasms  of  the  brain  amid 
the  comforts  and  the  luxuries  of  metropolitan  life. 

As  I  peer  out  of  the  window  at  the  vast  and  varied 
human  tides  of  Broadway,  and  hear  the  hum  and  roar 
of  its  mighty  throng,  and  the  heavy  peals  of  the  passing 
hours  from  the  City-Hall  clock,  the  intermediate  space 
between  two  periods  of  liberty  is  stricken  out. 

The  3'ears  before  and  since  the  Wa;*  come  together  like 
the  shifted  scenes  of  the  theater,  shutting  from  view  a 
dark  dungeon  and  its  darker  recollections. 


230  FOUR  YEARS  IN   SECESSIA. 

As  freedom  and  civilization  were  once  too  good,  so 
rebel  prisons  and  their  painful  associations  are  now  too 
hideous,  to  be  believed.  The  existing  sensation  is  the 
measure  of  the  mind,  which  realizes  with  difficulty  a  past 
consciousness  of  opposite  impressions, 

"How  liajipy  you  must  be  !"  has  often  been  my  greet- 
ing since  my  arrival  within  our  lines ;  and  the  expression 
is  very  natural. 

If  a  man  Avho  has  been  a  prisoner  in  the  liands  of  the 
enemy  for  a  long  while  could  only  preserve  the  remem- 
brance of  his  surroundings  as  a  criterion  for  the  future, 
his  restoration  to  freedom  would  be  a  return  to  paradise. 

But  the  truth  is,  the  man  changes  with  his  situation. 

He  glides  so  easily  and  readily  into  his  nonnal  status 
that  the  abnormal  seems  at  once  insupportable. 

Therefore,  the  Fifth  Avenue,  the-  Central  Park,  the 
Academy  of  Music,  Beauty,  Banquets,  Diamonds,  have 
no  special  charm.  They  are  the  things  of  course,  the 
every-day  garniture  of  civilized  existence. 

But  the  retrospect  of  not  many  weeks  makes  ns  shud- 
der, and  wonder  at  what  now  appears  an  impossible 
philosoph}'. 

Walked  I  ever  amid  those  pestilential  scenes  nn- 
moved?  Stood  I  ever,  calm  and  steady- voiced,  beside 
all  those  suffering  forms?  Bore  I  ever  those  heavy 
burdens,  physical  and  spiritual,  so  long,  without  faint- 
ing or  perishing  on  the  weary  way  ? 

We  know  not  what  we  can  endure,  is  as  true  as  truth, 
and  is  no  oftener  considered  than  by  the  poor  wretch 
whom  the  fortunes  of  war  have  consigned  to  a  Southern 
prison.      He  finds,  after  months  have  passed,  that  he  is 


THE   CAPTURE.  231 

still  alive  and  sane,  in  spite  of  starvation,  freezing, 
t^'ranny,  and  isolation,  and  believes  himself  of  iron  mold. 

The  scene  changes,  and  liberty  and  kind  fortune  dawn 
upon  him.  Then  he  looks  behind,  as  ihe  traveler  Avho 
has  passed  the  brink  of  a  precipice  in  the  darkness,  and 
shudders  while  he  thinks  how  narrow  has  been  his  es- 
cape ;  how  horrible  would  have  been  his  death. 

A  few  months  since^I  would  have  relished  the  coarsest 
food,  and  deemed  it  delightful  to  dwell  in  the  meanest 
hut.  Now — so  soon  does  man  grow  pampered  in 
places  of  purple — the  choicest  viands  tempt  me  all  in 
vain,  and  I  toss  with  restlessness  upon  the  softest  couch. 

An  age  ago  it  seems,  and  yet  the  almanac  tells  me  it 
was  on  the  night  of  May  3d,  1863,  since  my  confiere,  Mr. 
Albert  D.  Ri(;hardson,  and  Mr.  Richard  T.  Colburn  of 
the  Woi'ld  newspaper,  with  some  thirty-two  others,  left 
the  head-quarters  of  General  Grant  at  Milliken's  Bend, 
Louisiana,  to  run  the  batteries  of  Vicksburg,  Warrenton, 
and  Grand  Gulf,  where  hostilities  had  already  begun. 

I  had  tried  to  run  the  batteries  of  Vicksburg  before  ; 
but  circumstances  interfered ;  and,  as  the  Calvinists 
would  say,  I  was  pre-ordained. 

The  expedition, — consisting  of  a  steam-tug,  the  Sturges, 
and  two  barges  loaded  with  provisions  and  bales  of  hay, — 
was  very  badly  fitted  out ;  the  hay  Ij-ing  loosely  about, 
where  any  bursting  shell  might  ignite  it,  and  neither 
buckets,  in  the  very  probable  event  of  a  coniiagi-ation, 
nor  small  boats  as  a  means  of  escape,  having  been  provided. 

In  addition  to  this,  the  moon  was  at  its  full,  wlirreas 
the  other  battery-running  expeditions  had  gone  down  on 
dark  nights  ;  and,  about  the  time  we  reached  the  jioint  of 


232  FOUR  TEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

danger,  was  in  the  zenith  of  the  heavens.     Tlie  night  was 
as  liglit  as  day. 

As  Ave  sat  smoking  our  cigars  on  tlie  barges,  we  could 
see  every  tree  on  the  banks  of  the  mighty  river ;  and  as 
we  neared  the  peninsula  opposite  Vicksburg,  we  could 
observe  the  different  streets  and  buildings  of  the  city  that 
had  so  long  defied  the  combined  power  of  our  anny  and 
navy. 

An  officer  Avith  us  had  a  bottle  of  Catawba,  and  as 
there  was  some  probability  that,  in  the  storm  of  shot  and 
shell  which  awaited  us,  its  flavor  miglit  be  damaged,  we 
quaffed  its  contents  to  the  sjieedy  downfall  of  the  hostile 
stronghold,  and  the  early  suppression  of  the  Rebellion  ; 
to  the  women  we  loved — dwellers  in  the  region  of  the 
Infinite — and  to  the  consolation  of  the  unfortunately  mar- 
ried— surely  a  generous  sentiment  in  favor  of  an  ample 
class. 

Ours  was  indeed  a  merry  party ;  and  long-  shall  I  remem- 
ber the  agreeableness  of  the  occasion  before  Rebel  gun- 
powder interfered  with  its  hannony. 

We  smoked,  and  laughed,  and  jested,  and  chatted,  say- 
ing if  that  was  to  be  our  last  appearance  on  an}^  (earthly) 
stage,  that  we  would  remember  it  with  pleasure  when 
we  obtained  a  new  engagement — on  some  celestial  news- 
paper. 

There  seemed  no  anxiety  among  our  little  band. 

They  had  all  volunteered,  and  were  desirous  of  an  ad- 
venture, which  they  had  in  extenso. 

As  we  neared  the  hostile  stronghold,  we  lighted  fresh 
cigars  ;  destroyed  our  private  correspondence ;  settled 
our  affaii's,  in  the  event  of.  accident,  after  the  Bohemian 


THE  CAPTURE.  233 

fasliion  ;  and  -would  liave  commended  our  souls  to  our 
creditors,  if  we  had  known  we  had  any — /.  <?.,  either  the 
one  or  the  other — and  our  bodies  to  the  classic  process  of 
incremation. 

The  incremation  process  was  a  flight  of  romance.  We 
knew,  if  lost  in  the  Mississippi,  we  would  furnish  cold 
collations  for  catfish. 

About  midnight,  or  a  little  after,  we  were  within  a  mile 
and  a  lialf  of  Vicksburg  by  the  bend  of  the  river,  but  not 
more  than  a  quarter  of  that  distance  in  a  direct  line,  and 
directly  in  range  of  the  heavy  batteries  planted  for  sev- 
eral miles  above,  below,  and  in  front  of  the  town. 

We  were  moving  very  little  faster  than  the  current  of 
the  stream  ;  and  as  we  began  to  round  the  peninsula,  the 
trees  on  which  had  all  been  cut  down,  to  give  the  enemy 
an  oj^en  space  for  the  operation  of  his  guns  against  ap- 
proaching vessels,  the  Rebel  pickets,  who  had  most  need- 
lessly and  very  unwisely  been  permitted  to  cross  the 
river  and  take  position  on  the  Louisiana  shore,  gave  the 
alarm  by  discharging  their  muskets  at  us — without  detri- 
ment, however — followed  by  a  signal-rocket  from  the 
city,  and  the  opening  of  the  fiery  entertainment  to  which 
we  had  invited  ourselves  on  that  bright,  soft,  delicious 
night  of  May, 

Now  the  heavy  guns  opened  with  their  thunderous 
roar,  and  the  first  struck  one  of  the  barges,  as  we  Ivuew 
from  the  jar  of  the  boat.  "  Well  done  for  the  Rebels," 
said  we,  admiring  accuracy  of  aim  even  in  our  foes. 

Tlie  truth  was,  the  insurgents  had,  from  various 
causes,  never  had  a  fair  oj^portunity  on  the  i:)i-eviou3 
expeditions.     The  night  had  been  dark ;   the  artillery- 


234  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

men  liad  not  been  on  tlie  alert ;  tlie  guns  had  not  been 
well  trained  ;  the  fuses  had  been  defective. 

That  time,  as  we  subsequently  learned,  the  Rebels 
were  well*  prepared.  They  had,  from  past  experience, 
obtained  the  exact  range,  and  felt  confident  of  blowing 
any  craft  that  made  the  venture  out  of  the  water.  Cer- 
tainly they  made  a  good  beginning,  and  we  a  bad  end 
of  it. 

The  round-shot  howled,  and  the  shells  shriek(^d  over 
our  heads,  and  sometimes  cut  the  straw  of  the  hay -bales 
in  a  manner  calculated  to  give  any  one  not  entirely  hlase 
something  of  a  sensation. 

We  tried  to  count  the  shots,  but  they  were  so  rapid  as 
to  defy  our  power  of  enumeration.  I  had  witnessed  a 
number  of  heavy  bombardments  during  the  War,  but  had 
hardly  known  more  gunpowder  to  be  burnt  in  the  same 
space  of  time. 

All  along  the  shore  we  saw  the  flashes  of  the  guns. 

Tlie  fire  seemed  to  leap  out  of  the  strong  earthworks 
for  at  least  a  mile,  and  the  bright  and  quiet  stars  ap- 
peared to  tremble  before  the  bellowing  of  the  scores  of 
batteries. 

Clouds  of  smoke  rose  along  the  river  lilve  a  dense  fog, 
and  the  water  and  the  atmosphere  shook  with  reverbera- 
tions. 

Opposite  Yicksbui'g  the  Mississippi  is  narrow  and 
deep,  and  at  the  same  time  was  rather  low,  so  that  at 
times  we  were  not  more  than  three  or  four  hundred 
yards  from  the  ten-inch  guns. 

It  did  seem  strange  our  frail  vessels,  which  were  struck 
again  and  again,  were  not  blown  to  pieces.     But  the  little 


TEE   CAPTURE.  235 

tug — semi-occasionally  we  heard  its  quick,  sharp  puff- 
passed  on  and  we  were  yet  unhamied. 

We  had  now  passed  the  bend  of  the  river  just  ahove 
the  city,  where  a  sand-bar,  on  which  we  had  been  told 
we  would  probably  strike  and  ground,  was  plainly  visi- 
ble, and  the  greatest  danger  was  over. 

Still  we  moved  on,  and  the  Rebels,  as  if  disappointed 
and  enraged,  seemed  to  augment  their  efforts. 

Faster  and  heavier  the  batteries  thundered,  and  louder 
howled  the  shot  and  shrieked  the  shell  above,  below, 
around. 

Again  and  again  the  shells  burst  over  head,  and  the 
iron  frag-ments  fell  about  the  little  crew  ;  but  no  groans 
nor  cries  were  heard.  "We  seemed  fated  to  run  the 
gantlet  in  safety, — to  go  beyond  the  power  of  harm. 

For  three-quarters  of  an  liolir  we  were  under  the 
terrible  fire,  and  were  near  the  lower  end  of  the  city. 

Another  quarter  would  put  us  out  of  danger,  for  we 
had  passed  the  heaviest  batteries. 

Still  the  guns  opposite,  from  above  and  below,  belched 
forth  their  iron  messengers  of  death  ;  and  the  stars 
blinked,  and  the  waters  shook,  and  the  sulphurous 
mist  crept  like  a  troop  of  phantoms  along  the  turbid 
river.  * 

Every  moment  we  thought  a  shot  might  wreck  our 
expedition ;  but  in  the  occasional  pause  of  the  artillery^ 
as  I  have  said  before,  we  could  detect  the  rapid  pufl^ 
puff,  puff  of  the  little  tug,  which  was  the  sure  sign  that 
we  still  floated. 

Suddenly  a  huge  crash  by  our  side,  of  wood  and  iron. 
A  deep  and  heavy  and  peculiar  report.     A  rush  of  steam, 

16 


236  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

and  a  descending  sliower  of  cinders  and  ashes  that 
covered  our  persons. 

"We  heard  the  pufF  of  the  tug  no  more  ;  but  in  its  place 
went  up  a  \vild  yell  which  we  had  often  heard  in  the 
front  of  battle — shrill,  exultant,  savage  ;  so  different  from 
the  deep,  manly,  generous  shout  of  the  Union  soldiers, 
that  we  knew  at  once  it  was  the  triumphant  acclamation 
of  our  cruel  foe. 

The  boiler  of  the  tug  had  been  exploded  by  a  plunging 
shot  from  one  of  the  upper  batteries.  The  shot  was  acci- 
dental, but  extremely  effective.  It  wrecked  our  exj^edi- 
tion  at  once.  After  passing  through  the  boiler,  the  shell 
exploded  in  the  furnaces,  throwing  the  fires  upon  the 
barges  and  igniting  the  loose  hay  unmediately. 

"  The  play  is  over,"  said  Richardson  ;  "Hand  in  your 
checks,  boys,"  exclaimfed  Colburn;  "A  change  of  base 
for  the  Bohemians,"  remarked  the  undersigned  ;  and  we 
glanced  around,  and  heard  the  groans  and  sharp  cries  of 
the  wounded  and  the  scalded. 

We  rushed  forward  to  try  and  trample  out  the  flames, 
but  they  rose  behind  us  like  fiery  serpents,  and  paled  the 
full-orbed  moon,  and  lit  up  the  dark  waters  of  the  Sty- 
gian river  far  and  near. 

The  Rebels,  who  had  ceased  firing  for  a  moment,  now 
bent  themselves  to  their  guns  once  more,  and  the  iron 
missiles  swept  over  and  around  us,  and  several  of  the 
soldiers  on  board  were  wounded  by  fragments  of  burst- 
ing shells. 

Every  one  was  now  bent  on  saving  himself.  A  few 
of  the  privates  and  some  of  the  tug's  crew  plunged 
madly  overboard,  with  fragments  of  the  wreck  in  their 


•  THE  CAPTURE.  2 Si 

hands,  and  in  three  minutes  none  hut  the  wounded  and 
the  journalistic  trio  remained  on  the  burning  barges. 

We  tlirow  tlie  bales  of  hay  into  the  river  for  the  benefit 
of  the  wounded  and  those  who  could  not  swim— for  we 
had  early  learned  Leander's  art — and  then  arranged  our 
own  programme. 

Richardson  went  off  first  on  a  bale  of  hay,  from  which 
a  large  round-shot,  passing  near,  and  dashing  a  column 
of  spray  into  the  air  just  beyond  him,  soon  disi)laced  his 
corporeality, 

Colburn  foUowecJ  ;  and  I,  seeing  my  field  of  operations 
hemmed  in  by  rapidly  advancing  fire,  answered  his  sum- 
mons, and  dived,  after  divesting  myself  of  all  superflu- 
ous clothing,  into  the  aqueous  embrace  of  the  Father 
of  AYaters. 

Several  bales  of  hay  were  floating  below,  but  I  swam 
to  the  one  nearest  Colburn,  and  there  we  concluded  to 
get  beyond  the  town  and  pickets,  and  then,  striking  out 
for  the  Louisiana  shore,  make  our  way  as  best  we  could 
back  to  the  army. 

The  Rebels  had  then  ceased  firing— certainly  not  for 
humanity' s  sake,  we  thought — and  the  reason  was  patent 
when  we  heard  the  sound  of  row-locks  across  the  water. 

The  chivalrous  whippers  of  women  were  evidently 
coming  to  capture  us. 

My  companion  and  myself  believed  if  we  kept  very 
quiet,  and  floated  with  our  faces  only  out  of  the  water, 
we  would  not  be  discovered. 

A  yawl  full  of  armed  men  passed  near  us,  and  we  fan- 
cied we  would  escape.  Like  the  so-called  "  Confed- 
eracy," we  wanted  to  be  let  alone. 


23S  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA.  • 

Just  as  we  were  internally  congratulating  ourselves,  a 
small  boat  darted  round  the  corner  of  the  burning  barge, 
and  we  were  hauled  in  by  a  couple  of  stalwart  fellows, 
after  the  manner  of  colossal  catfish,  without  even  the 
asking  of  our  leave. 

In  fifteen  minutes  we  were  under  guard  on  shore, 
where  we  found  our  coUaborateur  Richardson  safe  and 
sound. 

About  half  our  small  crew  had  been  killed  and 
wounded,  and  the  rest  were  prisoners. 

More  unlucky  than  the  defenders  of  Thermopylae — one 
of  them  reached  Sparta  to  bear  the  tidings — not  one  of 
us  returned  to  tell  the  story. 

We  were  all  reported  lost,  we  learned  afterward ; 
though  General  Sherman's  humorous  comment,  when 
apprised  that  three  of  the  Bohemians  had  been  killed— 
"That's  good!  We'll  have  dispatches  now  from  hell 
before  breakfast" — did  not  prove  a  veracious  prediction. 

The  gifted  General' s  mistake  arose  from  his  confused 
topography. 

The  army  correspondents  do  not  usually  date  their  dis- 
patches at  his  head-quarters. 

The  Bohemians  lost  all  their  baggage ;  and  I,  having 
prepared  myself  for  Byronic  exercise,  went  ashore  with 
nothing  on  but  shirt  and  pantaloons. 

Barefooted  was  I  also,  and  I  appeared  most  forlorn  as  I 
walked  in  company  ^vith  the  others  through  the  moonlit 
streets  of  the  town. 

A  sudden  metamorphosis  was  ours,  from  freedom  to 
captivity ;  and  we  discovered  by  crossing  the  river 
we  had  reached  another  phase  of  civilization. 


THE   CAPTURE.  239 

We  prisoners  formed  a  sad  and  droll  procession,  as  we 
moved  across  the  bayou  towards  tlie  toAvn. 

A  number  of  the  captives  were  eitlier  wounded  with 
fragments  of  shell  or  scalded  by  the  steam,  and  groaned 
and  wailed  piteously  as  we  walked  along  ;  while  others, 
barefooted,  bareheaded,  coatless,  and  begrimed  with  cin- 
ders and  ashes,  looked  like  Charon' s  ferrymen  on  a  strike 
for  higher  wages. 

The  author  bore  a  close  resemblance  to  old  Time  with- 
out his  sc}i;he,  endeavoring  to  rejuvenate  himself  by 
hydropathic  treatment. 

All  of  us,  save  the  poor  fellows  who  had  been  wound- 
ed and  scalded,  were  in  the  best  of  spirits ;  and  we 
marched  merrily  through  the  streets,  chatting  and  laugh- 
ing at  our  mishap — which  proved  a  farce,  so  far  as  we 
the  unhurt  were  concerned,  for  it  was  an  escaped  tra- 
gedy— and  gayly  speculating  upon  what  would  be  the 
next  turn  of  Fortune. 

The  night  was  exceedingly  lovely;  and  the  moon 
poured  down  its  tranquil  radiance,  and  the  soft  May 
breezes  kissed  our  brow  and  cheek,  while  we  moved 
through  tlie  Rebel  town  closely  guarded,  as  if  they 
pitied  our  condition,  and  would  have  consoled  us  for  our 
ill-starred  fate. 


240  FOUR  YEAKS  IX  SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

OUE  IMPRISONMENT  AT  VICKSBURG. 

Consignment  to  a  Mississippi  Jail. — Repulsivcness  of  the  Place. — Character 
of  the  Inmates. — Rebel  Idea  of  Comfortable  Quarters. — A  Fragrant  Spot. — 
Parole  of  the  Captivea — Our  Removal  to  the  Court-House  — Courteous  Treat- 
ment.— Kindness  of  the  Citizens. — Pecuharities  of  Union  Men. — Miscompre- 
hension of  the  Enemy. 

One  of  my  journalistic  companions,  when  we  were 
examined  by  tlie  Provost  Marshal,  before  whom  we  were 
taken  as  soon  as  we  were  collected  on  the  shore,  remark- 
ed, in  a  ratlier  pompons  and  exacting  tone:  "Captain, 
we  have  not  slept  much  for  two  or  three  nights  past,  and 
we  would  like  to  have  as  comfortable  quarters  as  you 
can  give  us." 

The  officer  replied,  that  they  were  rather  short  of  ac- 
commodations just  then  ;  but  we  should  have  as  good  as 
the  town  afforded. 

I  can  not  for  the  life  of  me  determine  how  the  idea 

crept  into  my  brain  ;  but  I  fancied  that,  at  least  for  that 

night,  we  (the  officers  and  War-correspondents)  would  be 

given  a  tolerable  lodging-place. 

Were  my  impressions  well  founded  ? 

ft 
We  shall  see. 

After  our  examination,  we  were  marched  out  under 

guard  through  several  streets  ;  and,  at  last,  about  dawn, 

were  stopped  before  a  dingy  iron  gate  and  a  dingier  brick 


OUR   IMPRISONMENT  AT   VICKSBURG.  241 

wall,  which  my  recolh^ctions  of  the  city  taught  me  was 
the  jail. 

There  a  bell  was  pulled,  and  we  were  admitted  into 
the  Aard  hy  an  ill-favored  turnkey,  Avho  might  have  Lt^en. 
a  pirate  without  doing  any  dishonor  to  his  physiog- 
nomy. 

We  soon  found  he  was  in  harmony  with  his  surround- 
ings. 

The  jail-yard  was  filled  with  thieves  and  malefactors 
of  every  kind,  Rebel  deserters,  and  the  riff-raff  of  the 
pseudo  "  Confederacy."  They  were  filthy,  ragged, 
coarse-featured,  vile-?poken,  and  every  way  disgusting. 
They  slept  on  the  ground,  with  very  little,  if  any,  cover- 
ing, and  cooked  their  fat  bacon  on  sticks  in  the  fire. 

At  h'ast  one-quarter  of  the  inclosure  was  a  sink  dug 
about  the  beginning  of  the  "War,  and  when  the  May  sun 
arose,  hot  and  sultry  in  that  latitude,  the  oftor  that  per- 
meated the  place  was  most  demoralizing.  That  huge 
sink  emitted  its  reeking  odors  towards  tlie  starry 
heavens  in  such  intensity,  that  I  imagined  I  saw  the 
glistening  sentinels  shudder  and  try  to  hold  their  celes- 
tial noses  above  that  fragrant  spot. 

That  certainly,  we  thought,  was  the  place  where  Shak- 
speare  declared  the  offense  was  rank  and  smelt  to  Heaven. 

If  rank,  by  the  by,  were  as  offensive  as  that  Mississippi 
vale  of  Cashmere,  I  am  sure  no  one  could  hire  an^^  of  our 
little  street-sweepers,  for  an  ordinary  sum,  to  be  Major- 
Generals. 

AVe  trio  of  Bohemians,  who  naturally  had  a  love  of 
comfort,  and  even  luxury,  could  not  help  but  laugh  at 
the  delicious  locality  into  which  we  had  been  thrust,  and 


^ 


242  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

the  distinguished  consideration  with  -uiiich  we  were  re- 
ceived. 

"We  concluded,  if  a  man  took  excellent  care  of  himself 
there,  he  might  live  five  or  six  days,  which  was  a  most 
undesirable  longevity  in  that  fecundity  of  filth  and  Par- 
adise of  perfumes. 

"Good  quarters,"  laughed  I  to  my  companions,  after 
I  had  surveyed  the  yard :  "  By  Jove,  it  would  be  delight- 
ful to  go  hence  to  Hades  a  while,  for  change." 

We  all  lauglied — a  little  sardonically,  I  suspect ;  but 
what  could  we  do  else  ?  , 

The  idea  of  putting  gentlemen  in  such  a  hole  as  that, 
was  like  inviting  Lucullus  to  a  banquet  in  a  sewer. 

We  were  all  new  to  prison-life  in  Secessia ;  and 
many  things  struck  us  with  abhorrence  then,  which  we 
afterwards  learned  to  regard  with  resignation.  Still,  it 
was  not  ur^  some  months  after  my  removal  to  Rich- 
mond, tliat  I  witnessed  any  thing  equal  to  the  squalid 
scenes  of  the  Yicksburg  Jail. 

To  complete  the  deliglitfulness  of  the  place,  I  should 
say  the  ground  seemed  covered  with  vermin,  and  the 
prisoners  there  swaitned  with  them. 

We  had  liot  at  that  thne  grown  practical  entomolo- 
gists, nor  had  it  become  a  daily  duty  to  examine  our  gar- 
ments in  quest  of  insects  that  tortured  us.  And  hence, 
what  we  saw,  filled  us  with  excessive  uneasiness. 

We  were  afraid  to  sit  down,  or  even  to  stand  still,  lest 

we  should  be  overrun  ;   and  so  we  continued  to  walk 

backwards  and  forwards,  with  that  aimless  prison  pace 

that  subsequently  became  so  familiar. 

Heroes  of  novels  can  not  perish  until  the  close  of  the 


OUR  IMPRISONMENT  AT  VICKSBURG.  243 

last  volume  ;»and  oven  -sve  matter-of-fact  gentlemen — two 
of  us  at  least — were  spared  the  very  opi)osite  of  dying  of 
a  rose  in  aromatic  pain,  and  reserved  by  some  ill-natured 
divinity  to  pursue  entomological  researches,  and  eat  corn- 
bread  and  bacon  in  six  other  Southern  Prisons. 

Before  noon  of  the  4th  of  May,  the  three  Corres2">on- 
dents,  and  two  officers  of  the  Forty- Seventh  Ohio,  captur- 
ed with  us,  were  transferred  to  the  Court-House,  -vVliose 
dome  we  had  so  often  seen  from  our  caiYips  across  ^he 
river,  and  were  tliere  paroled  by  Major  Watts,  the  regu- 
lar agent  of  exchange  at  Vicksburg,  then  the  point  of 
exchange  for  the  West. 

He  assured  us  we  would  be  sent  to  Richmond,  and 
thence  North  by  the  first  flag  of  truce ;  that  the  sole  rea- 
son he  did  not  return  us  to  the  Army  from  Vicksburg 
was,  that  General  Grant  had  refused  to  receive  j^aroled 
prisoners  from  that  city.  We  believed  the  Major's  story, 
and  understood  our  parole  as  a  solemn  covenant  which 
the  Rebels  and  we  were  mutually  bound  to  observe. 

At  the  Court-House  we  had  fresh  air,  and  a  fine  view 
of  the  ]\Iississipx:)i  and  much  of  the  surrounding  country 
from  the  altitude  of  our  position.  We  could  see  our 
transports  across  the  Louisiana  peninsula,  and  our  camps 
up  the  river  from  the  Court-Room ;  and  we  felt  not  a 
little  annoyed  that  we  were  captives  almost  within  mus- 
ket-range of  our  friends. 

Th(-  Rebel  officers  treated  us  with  courtesy,  when  they 
learned  who  we  were.  Strange  to  say,  not  even  the 
name  of  The  New  York  Tribune  excited  tlieir  anger, 
although  we  had  been  assured  by  Southern  Majors  and 
Colonels  that  if  any  of  the  Correspondents  of  that  journal 


f 


244  FOUR   YEARS   IX  SECESSIA. 

were  taken,  tliey  would  be  executed  hy  tlie  infuriated 
soldiers. 

The  officers  at  Vicksburg  did  not  offer  to  search  our 
persons,  or  even  ask  what  we  had  upon  them. 

That  was  not  their  rule,  however,  as  we  learned  from 
a  party  of  men  captured  after  us.  Those  persons  were 
badly  treated,  and  their  money  and  other  valuables  stolen 
— or,  in  other  words,  taken,  with  fair  promises,  but 
never  returned. 

The  three  days  we  remained  in  Yicksburgli  we  were 
visited  by  a  great  many  officers  and  citizens,  who  showed 
us  all  the  courtesy  we  could  have  expected. 

We  were  even  taken  out  at  night  to  the  head-quarters 
of  General  Officers,  to  be  catechised  about  the  opinions  of 
the  people  of  the  North  respecting  the  duration  of  the 
War  ;  what  the  North  intended  to  do  with  the  Rebels 
after  they  had  been  whipped  ;  and,  especially,  what  dis- 
position the  Yankees  proposed  to  make  of  the  negroes. 

As  we  were  New  York  journalists,  and  had  been  with 
the  Army  from  the  breaking  out  of  the  War,  the  officers 
attached  some  weight  to  our  opinions ;  but  if  they 
obtained  any  consolation  from  our  responses,  their  conso- 
lation must  certainly  have  appeared  to  them  as  a  "  bless- 
ing in  disguise." 

Some  of  the  citizens  who  called  on  us  offered  to  give  us 
clothes  and  lend  us  money,  for  whicli  we  thanked  them, 
but  which  we  did  not  accept. 

They  were  of  course  loyal  at  heart ;  and  here  let  me  say 
that  almost  without  an  exception,  during  my  captivity,  I 
found  that  the  Southerners  who  revealed  any  humanity 
or  generosity  of  disposition  were  Union  men  ;  that  their 


OUR  IMPKISOXAIENT  AT   VIOKSBURG.  245 

kindness  was  in  proportion  to  their  fealty  to  the  Re- 
puhlie. 

Secessionisra,  by  some  means  that  I  will  not  attempt  to 
explain,  extinguishes,  or  at  least  represses,  the  better 
qualities  of  our  nature,  and  develops  the  worst  elements 
of  liuman  character. 

It  is  quite  possible,  of  course,  for  an  honorable  and 
upright  man  to  be  a  Rebel ;  but  it  is  very  difficult  to  find 
one  among  the  enemies  of  his  country. 

The  few  there  are  of  the  honorable-exception  kind  do 
not  gravitate  to  Prisons,  I  ^vill  be  sworn  ;  for  Prison 
attaches  in  the  South  are  generally  men  who  have  been 
very  little  if  at  all  in  the  field,  with  tyrannical,  brutal, 
and  cruel  dispositions,  and  so  cowardly  withal  that  they 
will  ever  use  tlieu-  power  harshly  when  they  know  they 
can  do  so  Avith  impunity. 

On  the  whole,  we  were  as  politely  treated  at  Yicksburg 
as  we  had  any  reason  to  expect ;  and  we  departed  thence 
with  the  idea  that  the  "Confederates"  were  not  so  bad 
as  they  had  been  represented — a  gross  error,  which  we 
had  ample  time  to  correct  during  the  twenty  months  we 
enjoyed  their  compulsory  hospitality. 

During  our 'brief  sojourn  in  the  Southern  stronghold, 
we  Avere  rather  lionized  than  otherwise.  Tlie  papers 
there  spoke  favorably  of  us,  and  complimented  us  uj^jon 
what  they  were  pleased  to  term  our  singular  fearlessness 
in  volunteering  without  any  particular  motive  to  go  upon 
so  perOous  an  expedition.  The  editors  paid  us  several 
visits,  and  indeed  we  were  the  recipients  of  calls  every 
hour  in  tlie  day. 

At  our  quarters,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  Court  House, 


246  FOUR  YEARS   IN   SEOESSIA. 

we  might  have  been  said  to  be  holding  infonnal  levees. 
We  were  certainly  regarded  with  no  little  curiosity  and 
some  degree  of  admiration,  for  wliat  the  Rebel  ofiicers 
insisted  upon  consideiing  our  devil-may-care  si)irit,  and 
thorough  contempt  for  Their  powerful  batteries. 

One  morning,  having  been  invited  to  visit  a  General 
up  town,  I  was  compelled  to  appear  in  the  streets  with- 
out shoes  or  hose.  My  feet,  which  at  least  were  white, 
and  looked  delicate,  attracted  the  attention  of  some  ladies 
i:i  front  of  the  Court  House,  as  I  limped  painfully  over 
the  rough  stones  ;  and  when  I  returned,  I  found  they  had 
been  kind  enough  to  send  me  a  jiair  of  socks  and  shoes, 
though  I  was  compelled  to  buy  the  latter  of  the  Provost- 
Marshal,  who  did  not  inform  me  they  had  been  given  me 
by  tlie  generous-hearted  women. 

The  Provost  pretended,  as  all  the  Southerners  who 
have  the  least  education  do,  to  be  a  high-toned  gentle- 
man ;  and  yet  he  could  stoop  to  the  x>etty  meanness  and 
dishonesty  of  taldng  money  from  a  prisoner  of  war  for  a 
pair  of  shoes  of  which  a  lady  had  made  him  a  present. 

In  Yicksburg  I  made  some  additions  to  my  wardrobe, 
having  been  "presented"  Avitli  a  dead  soldiers  cap  by 
the  jailer,  who  afterward  sent  in  his  bill  for  the  article  ; 
and  having  borrowed  a  common  military  overcoat  from 
the  assistant  surgeon  captured  with  us. 

So  attired,  I  traveled  to  Richmond  in  the  unifonn  of  a 
private  soldier — the  first  time  I  had  ever  donned  a  uni- 
form— and  on  such  an  occasion  I  must  say  I  was  very 
proud  to  wear  the  attire  that  our  braVe  boys  had  made  so 
hateful  to  Rebel  eyes,  and  so  honorable  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Nation  and  the  World. 


AT   JACKSON    AXD    ATLANTA  247 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AT     JACKSON     AK^D     ATLANTA. 

The  Marble-Yard  Prison. — ^Visit  to  the  Appeal  Office. — Kindness  of  the  Editors. — 
Tremendous  Excitement  and  Panic  at  the  Mississippi  Capital. — A  Terrified 
and  Fugacious  Mayor. — The  Mississippian  Office  Preparing  for  an  Exodus. — 
Curiosity  Excited  by  the  Yankees. — Southern  Fondness  for  Discussion  and 
Eodomontade. — Our  Continuous  Inflictions  along  the  Route. — Incidents  of 
the  Journey. — The  Whitehall  Street  Prison. — A  Pertinacious  Hibernian. — 
Abusive  Editorial  in  a  Newspaper,  and  its  Effects,  etc. 

On  the  evening  of  the  5th  of  May,  the  two  Oliio  officers 
and  the  Bohemians,  -with  a  number  of  privates,  were  sent 
to  Jackson,  i\rississipj)i,  and  for  two  days  were  treated 
politely  in  tlie  Marble-Yard  Prison. 

We  were  permitted  to  visit  the  Appeal  Office — at  last 
accounts  the  Memphis-Greuada-Jackson-Atlanta-Mont- 
gomery  Appeal,  very  justly  styled  a  moving  Appeal, 
with  whose  editors  we  were  personally  acquainted  before 
the  war — and  to  write  notes  to  our  friends  in  the  North 
that  we  were  still  among  the  living,  instead  of  waltzing 
obliviously  with  the  catfisli  in  the  turbid  eddies  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Mississippi. 

We  liad  no  blankets,  and  had  made  no  additions  to  our 
wardrobe,  and  found  it  difficult  to  sleep  in  the  rude 
quarters  assigned  us,  without  even  a  stick  of  wood  for  a 
pillow. 

Still  we  were  journeying  toward  Freedom,  we  fondly 


248  FOUK  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

imagined,  and  could  afford  to  put  up  with  a  few  incon* 
veniences. 

The  editors  of  the  Appeal  and  one  or  two  others  treated 
us  very  kindly,  lent  us  money,  and  gave  us  such  articles 
as  wo  most  needed,  for  wliich  we  are  still  very  grateful, 
"because  friends  under  such  circumstances  are  friends 
indeed. 

Great  excitement  prevailed  in  the  Mississippi  Caj^ital 
at  the  time  of  our  arrival,  on  account  of  the  report  tliat 
General  Grant,  at  the  head  of  his  victorious  army — he  had 
then  captured  Grand  Gulf — was  marching  on  the  town. 

At  the  street  corners  were  knots  of  excited  men,  dis- 
cussing the  prospects  of  the  future  with  more  feeling  than 
logic.  To  us,  who  had  long  been  careful  observers,  it 
was  evident  they  were  at  a  loss  what  to  do  ;  and  j'ou  can 
imagine  we  rather  enjoyed  the  trepidation  of  the  Rebels. 

We  saw  a  number  of  vehicles  of  various  kinds  loaded 
with  household  furniture,  and  men,  women,  children,  and 
black  servants,  all  greatly  excited,  moving  rapidly  out 
of  town. 

A  panic  of  the  most  decided  Idnd  existed  among  all 
classes  of  society  ;  but  we  had  no  difficulty  in  perceiving 
that  the  negroes  of  both  sexes,  young  and  old,  enjoyed 
the  quandary  of  their  masters  and  mistresses. 

Whenever  we  passed,  they  recognized  us  as  Yankee 
prisoners,  and  glanced  at  us  with  a  meaning  smile  that 
to  us  was  perfectly"  intelligible.  0 

The  Mayor  had  put  forth  a  gasconading  hand-bill, 
designed  as  a  placebo,  wliich  was  posted  m  prominent 
parts  of  the  capital,  informing  the  citizens  that  there  was 
not  the  least  cause  for  alarm  ;  calling  the  people  of  Mis- 


AT  JACKSON  AND   ATLANTA.  049 

sissippi  to  arms,  to  repel  the  barbarous  invader  from  the 
soil  lie  polluted  with  his  footsteps,  and  all  that  sort  of 
stereotyped  rant  and  braggadocio  for  which  tlu^.  South  has 
ever  been  famous. 

Tlie  bellicose  poster,  so  far  as  our  observation  extended, 
did  not  seem  to  have  the  desired  effect. 

If  the  citizens  were  Hying  to  arms,  they  must  have  con- 
cealed them  somewlK^re  in  the  country,  and  have  been 
making  haste  in  that  direction  to  recover  them.  They 
were  certainly  leaving  town  by  all  possible  routes,  and 
by  every  obtainable  means  of  conveyance. 

The  Mayor,  I  subsequently  learned  through  loyal  citi- 
zens of  Jackson,  was  himself  a  fugitive  before  the  paste 
on  his  defiant  pronunciamiento  was  fairly  dry.  The  office 
of  the  Mississippian,  one  of  the  most  virulent  Secession 
sheets  in  the  whole  South,  was  manifestly  disturbed  and 
distressed,  and  not  only  contemplating,  but  indulging  in, 
an  hegira  to  a  safer  quarter. 

When  we  went  by  the  office,  there  were  cases  of  type 
on  the  sidewalk  ready  for  instant  removal,  and  the  entire 
concern  was  in  a  palpable  state  of  chaos  and  confusion. 
Under  the  existing  condition  of  affairs  we  were  anxious 
to  tarry  in  Jackson,  hoping  we  might  very  soon  be 
greeted  with  the  music  of  Grant' s  guns. 

We  had  no  doubt  then  our  parole  would  be  ol|^erved  ; 
but  we  preferred  recapture  to  any  regular  release,  and 
we  would  much  rather  have  rejoined  tlie  Union  sa-my  at 
once  than  be  sent  three  or  four  thousand  miles  a  round- 
about way  to  accomplish  the  same  purjiosc^ 

The  Kebel  officer,  a  Lieutenant  of  a  Louisiana  regiment, 
no  doubt  feared  our  wishes  miffht  be  realized,  and  liur- 


250  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

ried  us  away  on  the  cars  after  we  had  passed  two  days 
in  the  toAvn.  AVe  had  not  "been  placed  under  guard,  the 
officer  accompanying  us  merely  as  escort,  nor  were  we 
until  we  reached  Atlanta. 

Along  the  route  we  had  a  great  many  privileges,  and 
could  have  escaped  at  any  time,  but  having  been  paroled, 
we  considered  ourselves  bound  by  our  parole,  and 
thought  our  best  interest  would  be  served  by  remaining 
with  our  escort,  and  getting  to  Richmond  as  speedily  as 
possible. 

"Wlien  the  cars  stopped  at  the  station  for  meals,  we 
repaired  to  them  as  if  we  had  been  traveling  in  the  North, 
without  the  least  surveillance. 

On  the  boat,  at  Selma,  we  wandered  about  wherever  we 
chose,  as  we  had  done  at  the  village  of  West-Point, 
Georgia,  and  other  places. 

In  Montgomery,  we  put  up  at  the  Exchange  Hotel,  the 
Rebel  Lieutenant  sleeping  in  a  ditferent  part  of  the  house 
from  where  we  lay ;  and  in  the  evening,  having  stated 
that  we  would  like  to  bathe  in  the  Alabama,  he  ordered 
a  corporal,  without  aims,  to  accompan}'-  us  to  the  river, 
and  show  us  the  best  place  in  the  vicinity  for  our 
balneation. 

On  the  route  we  attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention, 
especially  at  the  small  way- stations  ;  and  whenever  the 
cars  stopped  any  tune,  we  were  surrounded  by  persons 
who  plied  us  with  questions,  the  chief  of  which  were 
those  put  to  us  at  Yicksburgh,  respecting  the  disposition 
we  would  make  of  the  Rebels  after  they  were  whipped, 
and  of  the  negroes  after  we  had  given  them  their  freedom. 

Our  responses  might  not  have  been  able  ;  but  they  were 


AT  JACKSOX  AND  ATLANTA.  051 

certainly  ultra,  and  more  calculated,  on  the  -whole,  to  lire 
than  to  freeze-  that  much  talked  of  portion  of  sectional 
anatomy,  the  Southern  heart. 

The  pragmatical  felloAvs  who  gathered  about  us  were 
yery  anxious  to  discuss  the  main  question,  the  causes  of 
the  War,  the  Avrongs  of  the  South,  the  encroachments  and 
injustice  of  the  Xorth,  and  all  the  subjects  that  had  been 
argued  to  death  before  the  secession  of  South  Carolina. 

We  told  them  it  was  useless  to  employ  logic  then  ; 
that  bayonets  and  batteries  had  supplied  the  place  of 
argument ;  that  the  period  for  reasoning  had  passed ;  and 
that  the  cause  of  the  Republic  had  been  submitted  to  the 
arbitrament  of  arms. 

They  could  hardly  comprehend  that  very  well ;  but 
finding  we  would  not  revive  and  refute  old  and  exploded 
arguments,  they  assured  us  we  never  could  conquer  the 
South ;  that  we  would  have  to  kill  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  before  we  could  subjugate  the  "  Confederacy," 
and  all  that  quintessence  of  bosh  to  which  they  seem  so 
indissolubly  wedded. 

Not  being  feminine,  we  grew  weary  of  talking  at  last, 
and  were  very  desirous  of  some  kind  of  privacy,  and  of 
enjoying  for  a  little  while  the  luxury  of  silence.  That 
we  discovered  very  difficult  of  obtaining. 

We  could  not  sit  down  under  the  trees  as  we  did  at 
Montgomery,  where  we  >y  over  on  Sunday,  without 
gathering  a  crowd ;  and  the  officer  with  us  was  at  last 
forced  to  order  peremptorily  those  resolved  on  our  loqua- 
cious martyrdom  to  let  us  alone. 

Gods!  those  were  serious  inflictions  ;  and  we  concluded 

we  had  rather  run  the  batteries  half  a  dozen  times  than 
17 


252  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

undergo  tlie  boredom  of  talking  to  the  countless  fools  we 
met  all  tlie  way  between  Yicksburgli  and  Richmond. 

Speaking  of  the  Sunday  we  remained  in  Montgomery 
reminds  me  of  an  incident  that  occurred  while  we  were 
strolling  up  the  avenue  toward  the  State  House,  in  the 
afternoon,  which  represents  a  peculiar  phase  of  Southern 
inconsistency. 

As  we  passed  a  dwelling,  a  coarse,  brutal-looking  fel- 
low thrust  his  head  over  a  porch,  and  addressing  a  mu- 
latto girl  standing  on  the  sidewalk,  used  the  following 
extraordinary  language : 

"Mary,  G —  d —  your  soul;  have  you  said  your 
prayers  to-day?'' 

"i!^o,  master,''  in  a  tone  quite  free  from  the  African 
accent. 

"Wei!,  by  G — ,  if  you  don't  do  it  before  to-morrow, 
I'll  lash  the  skin  off  your  back,  G —  d —  you !" 

So  extraordinary  was  the  language — so  singular  the 
connection  between  the  man's  anxiety  about  Mary's 
prayers  and  his  excessive  j)rofiinity,  that  we  all  looked 
up  in  surprise,  each  one  supposing  he  must  have  misun- 
derstood the  fellow. 

On  asking  each  other  what  the  brute  had  said,  we  all 
repeated  the  same  language  ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt 
we  interpreted  his  orthodox  solicitude  and  liis  vulgar 
swearing  aright. 

It  is  not  at  all  unusual  in  the  South,  such  intermixture 
-of  professed  Christianity  with  the  violation  of  all  prac- 
tical morality  and  decency.  Men  who  transgress  all  the 
Commandments,  will  prate  of  God  and  the  Bible  very 
flippantly,  and  denounce  a  gentle  and  generous  skeptic, 


AT  JACKSON  AND  ATLANT.V.  253 

whose  life  is  entirelj^  blameless,  as  violently  as  if  lie  were 
a  poisoner  or  a  parricide. 

On  tlie  9th  of  May  we  reached  Atlanta,  Georgia. 
Tlie  Union  soldiers  were  marched  off  under  guard,  the 
Rebel  Lieutenant  accompanying  them,  and  leaving  us  in 
a  sitting  posture  under  a  tree  near  the  depot. 

We  sauntered  about  the  city  for  a  while,  answering  a 
few  questions  gsked  by  persons  at  the  doors  of  the  houses 
we  passed,  and  then  repaired  to  the  "Whitehall-street 
Prison,  to  which  the  privates  had  been  consigned,  to 
inquire  of  our  escort  where  we  should  stop,  whether  at 
the  Trout  House  or  some  other  hotel. 

Arrived  at  the  Prison,  the  Lieutenant,  somewhat  to  our 
surprise,  introduced  us  to  Colonel  somebody,  the  com- 
naandant,  who  invited  us  very  politely  to  walk  in. 

We  did  so  ;  the  door  closed  behind  us  ;  the  key  turned 
in  the  lock  vrith.  a  harsh  and  grating  sound,  and  we  were 
in  close  confinement. 

No  one  visited  us  during  the  days  we  passed  there, 
except  a  most  pertinaciously  offensive  Hibernian,  an 
attache  of  the  Prison,  who  entered  every  fifteen  minutes 
to  inquire  if  we  did  not  want  some  liquor,  or  other  con- 
traband article,  wliich  he  was  very  willing  to  get  if  we 
would  only  be  kind  enough  to  pay  him  a  "thrille"  for 
his  trouble. 

Learning  we  did  not  wish  any  stimulant,  he  was  very 
anxious  to  exchange  some  Treasury  Notes  for  Rebel  cur- 
rency, declaring  he  knew  an  ancient  Israelite  round  the 
corner  who  would  give  more  for  them  than  anybody  in 
the  city. 
We  gave  the  Celtic  individual  some  money  to  get 


254  FOUH  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

exchanged,  and  after  trying  to  clieat  us  out  of  it  by  at 
least  a  dozen  ingenious  mancBuvres  and  flagrant  false- 
hoods, he  at  last  succeeded,  with  the  greatest  difliculty, 
and  after  the  most  untiring  exertion,  lie  said,  in  obtain- 
ing one  dollar  and  three  quarters  of  the  scrip  for  one 
dollar  of  our  currency. 

M}^  associate  of  The  Tribune^  while  we  were  standing 
on  the  ]:)latfonn  of  the  cars,  going  from  Jackson  to  Merid- 
ian, had  had  his  hat  stolen  from  his  head  by  a  South- 
Carolina  IMajor  moving  rapidl}^  by  on  a  train  passing 
in  an  opposite  direction. 

That  generous  and  chivalrous  act,  depriving  my  com- 
panion of  any  article  of  coveiing,  reduced  him  to  the 
necessity  of  tying  a  handkerchief  about  his  head,  and  of 
subsequently  employing  the  son  of  Erin  as  an  agent  to 
replace  his  lost  hat. 

Various  were  the  assumed  or  actual  expeditions  made 
into  the  city  by  our  Hibernian  custodian  to  procure  a 
head-covering ;  and  the  things  he  brought  in  were  gro- 
tesque enough. 

Some  of  them  looked  like  patent  hen-coops  ;  some  like 
dilapidated  coal-scuttles ;  others  like  rat-traps  on  an 
improved  plan.  Mr.  E-ichardson  tried  them  all  on,  and 
suffered  from  a  severe  headache,  and  great  demoralization 
in  consequence. 

At  last  a  cotton  cap,  dirt-color,  and  amorphous  in 
shape,  was  obtained — it  reminded  me  of  the  head  of  the 
woolly  horse,  as  it  would  probably  appear  after  it  had 
been  struck  by  lightning — and  worn  by  my  friend  for 
many  months  after. 

I  always  felt  convinced  that  it  was  fortunate  for  the 


AT    JACKSON    AND    ATLANTA.  255 

wearer  he  was  iu  prison  while  under  the  influence  of  that 
cap.  Otherwise  I  tliink  lie  must  have  turned  highway- 
man, horsewhipped  his  fiither,  murdered  his  grand- 
mother, or  committed  some  other  outrage  entirely  foreign 
to  his  nature. 

Tlie  following  Autumn  the  cotton  anomaly  passed  into 
the  possession  of  an  old  and  very  honest  farmer,  confined 
in  Castle  Thunder  for  his  loyalty;  and  such  was  the 
moral  or  rather  immoral  weight  of  the  cap,  that  the  gray- 
haired  ruralist  immediately  began  to  steal. 

Poor  fellow,  he  was  not  to  blame  !  Who  could  resist 
so  potent  a  pressure,  such  a  thing  of  evil  as  that  fleecy 
abomination  ? 

Up  to  that  time  we  had  traveled,  as  I  have  said,  with 
a  Lieutenant,  merely  as  escort ;  but  an  amiable  and  a 
chivalrous  article  in  the  Confederacy— ^^xi^id.,  I  am 
almost  ashamed  to  say,  by  two  Yermonters  who'  had 
been  two  years  in  the  South — declaring  Correspondents 
the  worst  persons  in  the  Amiy ;  that  they,  and  we  par- 
ticularly, ought  to  be  hanged  ;  and  that  they  (the  editors) 
would  be'onlj^  too  happy  to  hold  one  end  of  the  rope  for 
our  hempen  accommodation,  caused  us  to  be  treated 
somewhat  rigorously,  and  marched  through  town,  on 
our  way  to  the  depot,  under  a  heavy  guard. 

The  two  Lieutenants  under  whose  escort  we  had  trav- 
eled from  Yicksburgh  to  Atlanta  did  not  know  much, 
but  they  were  at  least  respectful  and  courteous. 

Tlie  third  Lieutenant,  who  took  charge  of  us  from  At- 
lanta, was  a  coarse,  ignorant,  brutal  fellow,  who  endeav- 
ored to  interest  us  by  telling  stories,  to  which  the  most 
depraved  females  of  Church-street  would  have  declined 


25G  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SECESSIA. 

to  listen,  and  to  compensate  liimself  for  Lis  entertainment 
by  begging  our  knives  and  rings,  or  any  of  tlie  few  arti- 
cles we  had  that  attracted  his  fancy. 

At  the  depot  we  were  not  even  permitted  to  purchase 
a  paper ;  and  the  Lieutenant  pretended,  as  did  the  com- 
mandant of  the  Prison,  that  we  were  in  danger  of 
being  mobbed,  on  account  of  the  odium  excited  against 
us  by  the  grossly  abusive  editorial  in  the  Confederacy. 
Whether  there  was  or  was  not  any  ground  for  apprehen- 
sion, I  am  unaware ;  but  certainly  we  felt  none ;  albeit 
we  deemed  it  quite  in  keeping  with  the  generous  conduct 
of  the  Southerners  to  mob  two  or  three  prisoners  of  war 
who  were  entirely  unarmed,  and  therefore  at  their  mercy. 

No  one  threatened  or  attempted  to  harm  us  at  Atlanta, 
which  place  we  left  with  no  little  satisfaction,  because  we 
were  getting  so  much  nearer,  as  we  fondly  thought,  to 
our  freedom. 

Our  journey  to  Richmond,  by  way  of  Knoxville,  was 
without  accident  or  excitement. 

We  were  bored  as  usual  Avith  questions  as  we  stopped 
at  the  stations,  and  gi-eatly  fatigued,  on  reaclnng  what 
was  the  Rebel  capital,  from  riding  in  box,  platfonu,  hog 
and  cattle  cars,  night  and  day,  without  any  opportunity 
or  means  of  sleeping,  and  at  about  as  rapid  a  rate  as  that 
of  a  towboat  on  the  Erie  canal. 


THE  LIBDY   miSON.  257 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE     LIBBY     PKISON. 

Arrival  at  Richmond. — Our  Reception  from  the  Union  Officers. — Mistaken  Idea 
about  Human  Endurance. — The  First  Shock  in  Prison. — Entomological  Re- 
searches.— Sickness  and  Sentiment. — Violation  of  the  Tribune  Correspondents' 
Paroles. — Character  of  the  Rebel  Commissioner. — Determination  of  the  Enemy 
to  Hold  us  to  the  End  of  the  War. 

Arrived  at  Riclimond,  about  dayliglit  on  tlie  morning 
of  tlie  ICtli  of  May,  the  journalistic  trio  Avere  told  that 
they  must  become  inmates  of  the  notorious  Libby  Prison 
until  the  flag-of-truce-boat  came  up,  which  would  be  in  a 
day  or  two,  when  we  would  be  sent  North, 

While  we  stood  in  Carey  street,  near  the  corner  of 
Twenty-first,  the  Union  officers  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
building  looked  out  of  the  windows,  and  cried  "fresh 
fish  !  fresh  fish  !"  with  a  vigor  of  tone  and  an  unction  that 
I  must  say  disgusted  me  to  a  point  of  indignation. 

I  thought  men  who  could  make  stujDid  jests  in  such  a 
dismal  building  as  tlie  Libby.  seemed  to  be,  from  an  exter- 
nal view,  ought  to  be  kept  there  for  life. 

They  certainly  looked  distressed  enough  to  be  dignified ; 
and  I  was  anxious  the  dramatic  proprieties  should  be 
observed. 

Ushered  into  the  officers'  quarters,  we  were  loudly 
greeted  with  "  Halloo,  Yanks  !"  and  plied  with  questions 
concerning  the  place,  mode,  and  time  of  our  capture. 


258  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SECESSIA. 

The  Libby,  tliougli  bad  enough,  was  not  so  bad  as  I 
had  anticij)ated,  Tlie  floor  "was  clean  and  tlie  -walls  were 
whitewashed  ;  but  I  thouglit  if  I  were  comj^elled  to 
remain  there  a  niontli,  I  should  die  outright. 

How  little  we  know  of  ourselves  ! 

I  passed  sixteen  months  in  places  far  worse  than  that — 
in  rat-holes,  and  damp  cellars,  and  noisome  cells  ;  and  yet 
resolved  to  survive  the  Rebellion  if  I  were  allowed  half 
a  chance. 

And,  thanks  to  an  elastic  constitution,  which,  by  the 
by,  required  no  anti-slavery  amendments,  and  the  prac- 
tice of  a  daily  philosophy  of  the  Xenocratic  sort — to  use 
the  politician's  interpretation  of  Webster's  last  words — . 
"  I  am  not  dead  yet." 

"What  first  shocked  me  in  the  Libby  more  than  aught 
else  was,  that  my  fellow-prisoners,  at  least  once  a  day, 
thoroughly  examined  their  garments,  for  what  purpose  I 
will  not  be  unpoetic  enough  to  state — and  accompanied 
their  researches  with  much  profanity  and  considerable 
phlebotomy. 

A  few  hours  proved  the  urgent  necessity  of  the  custom, 
and  from  that  time  until  after  my  escape  I  made  a  quoti- 
dian investigation — in  which,  like  a  jealous  husband,  I 
looked  for  Avhat  I  feared  to  find — that  never  failed  to  fill 
me  with  aversion  and  disgust. 

I  envied  the  Emperor  Julian  s  indiflTerence  on  a  subject 
which  no  man  less  great  than  he  could  possibly  feel. 

The  fact,  too,  that  the  prisoners  were  obliged  to  cook 
such  little  food  as  they  could  procure,  wash  dishes,  clean 
floors,  and  do  the  general  work  of  scullions,  as  I  have 
mentioned  in  detail  elsewhere,  and  all  under  the  most 


TDE  LIBBY  PRISON.  259 

adverse  circumstances,  rendered  me  a  very  rebellious 
loyalist ;  and,  in  connection  with  a  system  not  yet  fully 
recovered  from  an  attack  of  intermittent  fever  in  the 
Louisiana  swamps,  prostrated  me,  before  two  days  were 
over,  on  the  bare  floor,  with  flaming  blood  and  a  burning 
brain. 

Sickness  was  somewhat  new  to  me,  and  sickness  there 
was  a  sensation  one  would  not  care  to  have  repeated. 

I  am  not  much  given  to  Sentiment ;  but  those  dreary 
walls  and  hard  floors,  that  rough  fare  and  desolate  cap- 
tivity, suggested  their  opposites,  and  brought  to  mind  soft 
couches  and  softer  hands,  sweet  voices  and  cooling 
draughts,  thoughts  of  the  Beautiful  and  memories  of  Sym- 
pathy, that  were  a  torment  and  a  torture  there. 

"Sick  and  in  Prison,  and  you  visited  me  not."  I 
found  a  meaning  in  those  simple  words  I  had  not  before 
discovered,  and  felt  in  my  inmost  soul  how  dreadful  an 
accusation  that  would  be  against  a  heart  that  had  ever 
assumed  to  love. 

On  the  21st  of  May,  the  truce-boat  reached  City 
Point,  and  on  the  day  following  all  the  persons  captured 
on  our  expedition  were  sent  off,  except  myself  and  my 
confrere  of  the  New  York  Tribune.  The  enemy  kept  faith 
with  them,  and  broke  it  with  us ;  evidently  believing 
that  Tribune  men  had  no  rights  he  was  bound  to  re- 
spect. 

Commissioner  Ould,  when  asked  by  our  journalistic 
friend  if  he  did  not  design  releasing  us  also,  replied,  with 
as  many  oaths  as  Hector  McTurk,  that  we  were  the  very 
men  he  wanted  and  intended  to  keep  ;  that  he  would 
hold  us  until  a  certain  fabulous  number  of  innocent  Con- 


260  •  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECES6IA. 

federates  in  Northern  bastiles  were  set  free  ;  and  vaguely 
intiniiited  tliat  Ave  should  stay  in  prison  until  skating 
became  a  popular  amusement  in  the  Bottomless  Pit. 

When  my  collaborateur  and  I  were  informed  of  that 
shameful  violation  of  faith,  we  knew  our  case  was  hope- 
less ;  that  the  Tribune  correspondents  were  in  for  the 
War  ;  that  no  substitutes  could  be  obtained,  and  that  no 
self-sacrificing  and  intelligent  contrabands  need  apply. 

Subsequently,  desirous  of  obtaining  some  official  repu- 
diation of  our  paroles,  we  put  tlxem  in  the  hands  of  an 
attorney,  and  stated  our  case  to  him.  He  declared  we 
were  unjustly  detained ;  that  no  prisoner  regularly 
paroled,  as  we  were,  had  ever  before  been  held  ;  but  that, 
as  we  belonged  to  the  Tribune,  he  could  do  nothing  for  us. 

Nor  could  he. 

Ould,  with  the  unbounded  effrontery  and  superlative 
falsification  that  characterize  him  even  above  other 
Rebels,  declared  Major  Watts  had  no  right  to  parole  us, 
and  if  he  had  had  the  right,  he  (Ould)  would  have  pos- 
sessed the  authority  to  revoke  the  parole. 

Eminent  descendant  of  Ananias,  like  Ferdinand  of 
Arragon,  he  only  values  a  promise  for  the  pleasure  he 
experiences  in  breaking  it. 

Trickster,  hypocrite,  and  liar,  he  represents  each  char- 
acter so  well  that  it  is  impossible  to  detennine  in  which 
he  excels  ;  nor  has  he  in  any  one  of  them  any  equal  but 
himself. 

He  is  one  of  the  loudest  mouthers  about  Chivalry  and 
Honor  in  the  American.  Gascony ;  and  yet  the  only  idea 
he  can  have  of  either  of  those  much-abused  terms  is  by 
practicing  their  opposites. 


TEE  LIBBY  PRISON.  261 

"Wheu  our  case  was  referred  to  the  Sonthern  Secretary 
of  "War,  in  an  unanswerable  memorial,  the  followino- 
October— that  we  might  have  all  the  official  evidence  pos- 
sible of  the  perfidy  of  the  Rebels— Mr.  Seddon's  sole 
answer  was  our  consignment  to  the  Salisbury  (N.  C.) 
Penitentiar}-,  as  general  hostages  for  the  good  conduct  of 
the  Government. 

AVho  ever  heard  of  making  a  pair  of  individuals  hos- 
tages for  the  conduct  of  a  Nation  ? 
Of  course  the  thing  was  a  ftirce. 

The  Rebels  only  used  that  form  that  they  might  retain 
us  to  the  end  of  the  War. 

They  might  as  well  have  held  a  box  of  sardines  for  the 
preservation  of  the  morals  of  Sardinia  ;  and  they  knew  it ; 
but  they  employed  the  phrase  with  all  seriousness,  and 
packed  us  off  to  Salisbury  accordingly. 

I  mention  these  circumstances  to  show  the  animus  of 
the  Richmond  authorities  toward  the  Trilnme  men,  and, 
if  I  must  be  entirely  candid,  out  of  pride  at  the  high,  but, 
I  hope,  deserved  compliment  they  paid  us. 

Never  during  the  War  have  I  known  of  another  instance 
in  which  prisoners  have  been  held,  as  we  were,  who  had 
been  paroled  regularly  by  an  accredited  agent  of  exchange 
at  a  regular  point  of  exchange. 

For  the  most  honorable  exception  made  in  our  favor,  I 
feel  thankful  to  the  Rebels,  generally  and  individually. 

Their  whole  history  is   one  of  inhumanity,  and  their 

name  is  Perfidy;  yet  are  they  prolific  of  excuses  and 

explanations  for  their  perfidious  conduct,  as  may  be  seen 

by  a  single  instance. 

When  I  asked  Major  Thomas  P.  Turner,  the  Command- 


262  FOUR   YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

ant,  if  lie  was  aware  we  were  paroled,  and  had  the  paroles 
in  our  pockets — "Oh,  that  makes  no  difference, "-he  re- 
plied ;  "your  paroles  do  not  go  into  effect  until  after  you 
are  on  the  truce-boat." 

"  AVliat  in  Heaven's  name  do  we  want  of  paroles  when 
we  are  on  the  truce-boat?"  inquired  I.  "That  is  like 
telling  a  criminal  sentenced  to  execution  that  he  is  par- 
doned, but  that  he  is  not  to  be  benefited  by  his  pardon 
until  after  he  has  been  hanged  an  hour." 

When  Major  Turner  is  hanged,  as  I  am  quite  sure  he 
ought  to  be,  I  trust  he  will  be  .pardoned  with  that  special 
proviso. 


LIBBY  PRISON.  2G3 


/ 
CHAPTER   XXXyil. 

LIBBY    PRISOISr. 

Arrival  and  Release  of  Union  OfBcers. — Therapeutic  Power  of  the  Fall  of  Vicks- 
burg. — Its  "Wholesome  Effect  on  the  Prisoners. — Gradual  Resignation  to  Con- 
finement.— Means  of  Killing  Time. — Journalistic  Desire  to  "Write,  and  the 
Impossibility  of  its  Indulgence. — Exhibition  of  the  Loyal  Captives. — Summer 
Costumes. — Cruelty  of  our  Keepers. — Petty  Meanness  of  the  Commandant. — 
The  Drawing  of  Lots. — Horror  of  the  Scene. — Barbarous  Treatment  of  Citi- 
zens.— Consideration  Shown  the  Officers. — Removal  of  Tlie  Tribune  Corre- 
spondents. 

Whex  vre  first  readied  the  Libb}',  not  •  more  than 
se"venty  or  eighty  officers  were  confined  there,  mostly 
prisoners  taken  at  Chancellorsville ;  but  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  day  of  our  arrival,  Colonel  A.  B.  Streight 
and  his  command  joined  ns  ;  and  in  a  day  or  two  more, 
Captain  George  Brown,  of  the  gunboat  Indianola,  and 
his  officers,  were  added  to  the  number,  maldng  about  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five  in  all.  All  of  us  felt  very 
gloomy,  at  least ;  but  we  kept  up  a  cheerful  exterior,  and 
endeavored  to  make  the  best  of  our  very  obnoxious  sur- 
roundings. ^  . 

About  the  1st  of  June,  the  Chancellorsville  and  naval 
captives  were  released.  I  remember  the  latter  were 
quite  demonstrative  over  the  prospect  of  their  return  to 
freedom  ;   so  much  so  that  I  expressed  to  my  confrere 


264  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

my  surprise  at  their  lack  of  self-disciplino.  "You  must 
remcmher,  Junius,  they  have  been  prisoners  for  three 
months,"  "svas  his  answer ;  and,  on  reflection,  I  ceased  to 
marvel  at  their  display  of  excessive  joy. 

Three  months  in  Prison  !  What  an  age  it  seemed  !  I 
did  not  believe  I  could  endure  close  confinement  so  long 
as  that :  I  supposed  I  must  die  perforce  before  a  similar 
period  had  elapsed.  How  little  do  we  know  ourselves — 
least  of  all,  what  we  can  bear  of  trial  and  of  suffering  ! 

The  loss  of  my  freedom  and  the  uncertainty  of  its 
restoration,  with  the  close  atmosphere  and  the  hateful 
surroundings  of  the  Prison,  were,  as  I  have  said,  too 
much  for  me.  My  system  gave  way,  and  ere  a  week 
had  loassed  I  Avas  prostrate  on  the  floor  with  a  raging 
fever.  Those  who  felt  any  interest  in  me  became 
alarmed,  tliinking  I  would  die  in  that  Avretched  place.  I 
did  not  share  their  apprehensions.  My  opposition  was 
excited,  and  I  determined  to  live  if  I  could,  and  part 
with  my  soul  under  better  auspices. 

Through  eight  weeks  I  suffered,  and  jot  took  no  med- 
icine ;  trusting  to  the  best  of  physicians,  Nature,  for  my 
healing. 

I  was  cured  at  last  in  an  unexpected,  but  most  agree- 
able way. 

We  were  all  anxious  about  Yicksburg,  hearing,  as  we 
did  through  the  Richmond  papers,  that  Johnston  was 
besieging  Grant  in  turn,  and  would  soon  have  him  be- 
tween two  hostile  armies. 

On  the  afternoon  of  July  8th,  while  I  lay  tossing  with 
fever  on  my  blankets  in  the  hot,  confined,  unwholesome 
atmosphere  of  the  Prison,  a  negro  came  wp  stairs  and 


LIBBY  PRISON.  265 

told  lis  Yicksburg  -was  in  ovir  liands.  The  effect  was 
instantaneous  witli  me. 

Xo  cordial  of  Zanoni's  could  better  have  done  its 
therapeutic  errand. 

I  rose  at  once,  and  joined  in  a  tremendous  chorus  of 
the  "  Star  Sj^angled  Banner,"  which  made  the  air  vibrate, 
and,  pouring  out  into  the  street,  caused  one  of  the  Rebel 
officers  below  to  say:  "Doj'ou  hear  that?  Those  d — d 
Yankees  must  have  got  the  news." 

That  news,  so  glorious,  proved  more  potent  than  an 
Arabian  philter.  I  had  no  fever  nor  ailment  of  any  kind 
for  many  a  long  month  after. 

Tlie  fiill  of  Yicksburg  gave  me  a  new  lease  of  life,  and 
strengthened  the  hearts  of  the  Union  prisoners  to  endure, 
like  the  blast  of  a  defiant  bugle  in  the  hour  of  defeat. 

That  was  a  happy  evening  for  us,  even  in  Prison.  "We 
all  said  we  could  afford  to  be  captives  as  long  as  the 
Rebels  were  soundly  whi^Dped ;  and  not  a  few  declared 
the  fall  of  Yicksburg  worth  twelve  months  of  freedom. 

"\Ye  sat  up  till  midnight,  and  awoke  the  echoec  of  that 
quarter  of  Richmond  with  the  most  vociferous  singing 
of  ]S\\tional  airs,  not  forgetting  "John  Brown's  body," 
which  was  especially  obnoxious  to  the  Rebels,  and  there- 
fore particularly  agreeable  to  us. 

"\Ye  could  hear  the  insurgent  officers  swearing  beneath 
our  windows  in  the  pauses  of  silence ;  but  their  curses 
were  music  to  our  ears,  and  we  chanted  louder  and  more 
defiantly  than  before. 

Though  the  Libby,  materially  considered,  was  the  least 
bad  Prison  of  the  seven  in  which  I  was  confined  in  the 
South,   it  seemed  often  that  I  must  die  or  grow  insane 


266  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

there.  We  had  a  few  books,  but  I  could  not  read,  and  1 
was  afraid  to  think  any  more  than  I  could  avoid,  for 
thought  became  brooding,  and  brooding  misery,  and 
desj)air. 

Wlien  the  fever  "was  not  upon  me,  I  tried  every  Avay 
to  dissipate  the  dark  and  haunting  fancies,  the  desolate 
and  despondent  feelings,  tliat  crowded  upon  my  brain 
and  heart.  I  tried  tobacco  for  consolation,  and,  lighting 
a  common  clay  pipe,  I  would  pace  the  floor  for  hours,  to 
and  fro,  in  company  witli  some  of  the  ofiicers,  talking  of 
the  Past  and  speculating  on  the  Future.  How  weary 
and  monotonous  was  that  walk  over  that  wide  Prison 
floor  !     How  it  grew  into,  and  became  a  part  of,  my  life  ! 

My  blood  leaped  and  my  soul  sickened  when  I  stared 
into  the  unborn  days,  and  saw  no  one  through  which  the 
light  of  liberty  streamed.  Weary,  worn,  restless,  I  often 
pressed  my  pale  face  against  the  window-bars  and  gazed 
across  the  river,  to  the  South,  at  the  green  slopes  and  cool 
forests,  that  seemed  so  sweet  and  refreshing  and  delicious 
in  the  distance.  To  walk  there  appeared  like  Paradise  ; 
for  there  was  no  restraint,  no  compulsion.  How  I  longed 
for  the  magic  tapestry  in  the  Arabian  tale,  which  could 
transport  me  where  I  willed  ! 

At  last  I  began,  by  slow  degrees,  to  accustom  myself 
to  my  unnatural  situation.  I  reflected  on  all  the  philo- 
sophic theories  I  had  entertained,  on  all  the  stoical  prin- 
ciples I  had  tried  to  cultivate,  and  determined  to  steel 
myself  to  the  necessities  of  the  occasion.  The  determina- 
tion brought  its  fruit.  Will  bountifully  repaid  me  for 
its  exercise.  I  found,  after  a  few  weeks,  I  could  read, 
and  reading  was  a  great  consolation.      It   aided  me  to 


LIBBY  PRISON.  267 

strangle  the  pangful  hours  ;  to  prevent  constant  introspec- 
tion; to  turn  back  the  surging  tide  that  threatened  at 
times  to  deprive  me  of  reason. 

All  the  day,  when  I  was  not  compelled  to  be  in  the 
kitchen,  I  stretched  myself  on  my  blankets  near  the  win- 
dow, and  strove  to  forget  myself  in  the  pages  before  me. 
I  could  do  that  but  partially  ;  yet  it  was  a  great  relief ; 
and  I  was  very  thankful  I  had  early  formed  the  habit  of 
seeking  society  in  books.  After  dark  we  had  no  lights, 
unless  a  small  tallow  candle,  which  we  were  compelled  to- 
extinguish  at  nine  o'clock,  could  be  called  so  ;  and  then 
a  few  of  us  would  get  together,  and  talk  far  into  the 
night. 

Fortunately  for  me,  I  slept  well  at  that  period,  and  real- 
ized in  dreams  what  Fortune  denied  me.  Ev^ery  night 
I  was  free.  The  body  could  be  imprieoned,  but  the 
Rebels  could  not  fetter  the  spirit.  That  returned  to  the 
dear  old  North,  and  dwelt  during  the  sweet  hours  of 
slumber  amid  the  scenes  it  once  had  loved.  So  much  did 
I  dream  of  freedom,  that,  at  last,  I  lost  all  faith  in  my  vis- 
ions of  the  night ;  knowing  they  were  delusions  even 
wliile  I  was  under  their  influence. 

AVlien  I  fancied  myself  in  converse  with  my  intimates  ; 
sitting  at  a  luxurious  board ;  surrounded  by  objects  of 
beauty ;  joyous  amid  the  joyful,  it  was  most  painful  to 
awake  and  behold  the  familiar  beams  above  my  head, 
and  the  rafters  of  the  roof,  and  the  hateful  walls  of  the 
Libby.  I  had  suffered  in  that  way  so  often  that  my 
reason  would  no  longer  succumb  to  my  imagination  ;  and 
when  pleasant  and  sympathetic  voices  seemed  to  fall  upon 
my  ear,  I  knew  they  were  recollections,  not  realizations, 

18 


268  FOUPw  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

the  reflected  desires  of  my  own,  not  the  outpouring  of 
another,  heart. 

As  prisoners  gathered  to  the  Libby,  as  tliey  did  from 
Wincliester  and  Gettysburg,  greater  efforts  were  made 
for  passing  the  time  resignedly  and  proiitably.  Classes 
in  Latin,  French,  and  German  were  established ;  books  • 
were  procured  in  quantities  in  the  city ;  debating  socie- 
ties were  fomied,  and  manuscript  papers  begun.  I  con- 
fess I  had  not  the  heart,  nor  was  I  in  the  mental  condition, 
to  take  advantage  of  those  means  to  lighten  the  burdens 
of  confinement ;  but  my  collahorateur,  Mr.  Richardson, 
recreated  himself  frequently  in  the  debating  society,  and 
became  the  most  prominent  of  its  members  ;  drawing  the 
ofl&cers  largely  whenever  it  was  known  he  would  par- 
ticipate in  the  discussion. 

Had  I  possessed  the  facilities,  I  should  have  liked  to 
write  something  ;  but  how  could  I  do  so  when  we  had  no 
tables,  except  the  rough  boards  from  which  we  ate,  and 
they  were  always  in  use ;  no  chairs,  or  stools,  or  boxes 
even,  to  sit  upon ;  no  space,  however  small,  which  was 
free  from  invasion  and  disturbance  ?  The  book  I  would 
have  written  would  not  have  been  on  prison-life,  or  had 
aught  to  do  with  prisons  :  it  would  liave  been  something 
like  a  novel  of  society,  and  filled,  I  fancy,  with  misan- 
thropy and  bitterness,  combined  with  soft  imaginings  and 
voluptuous  coloring — the  one  produced  immediately  by 
the  scenes  about  me  ;  the  other,  through  contrast  with 
them. 

Reading,  smoking,  talking,  scrubbing,  walking,  and 
cooking,  made  up  my  slender  existence  in  the  Libby. 
Many  of  the  officers  were  gentlemen  of  intellect,  culture, 


LIBBY  PRISON".  269 

taste,  and  breeding ;  but  some,  unfortunately,  were  so 
destitute  of  dignity  and  manners  tliat  we  were  compelled 
to  blush  for  tliem  when  prominent  Rebels,  either  in  mili- 
tary or  civil  life,  were  brought  into  the  Prison,  as  they 
frequently  were,  by  Major — then  Captain — Thomas  P. 
Turner,  commandant — to  see  the  collection  of  Yankee  cu- 
riosities. The  Rebels  would  walk  about  the  rooms  very 
much  as  if  they  were  in  a  zoological  garden,  and  this 
General,  that  Colonel,  or  that  Major,  was  pointed  out  as 
would  be  a  Bengal  tiger,  an  African  giraffe,  or  a  Polar 
bear. 

Colonel  Streight,  while  we  were  in  the  Libby,  was 
the  principal  lion.  The  Richmond  papers  had  abused 
him  so  much,  though  for  what  reason  it  was  impossible 
to  conjecture,  that  they  had  rendered  him  famous.  He 
had  failed  on  his  raid,  through  lack  of  fresh  animals,  to 
strike  the  enemy  the  severe  blow  he  had  intended  ;  but 
he  was  hated  as  heartUy  as  if  he  had  been  altogether  suc- 
cessful. The  hatred  of  the  "cliivalry"  disturbed  Imn 
very  little,  however :  indeed,  I  am  quite  confident  he 
enjoyed  it ;  and  hated  them  back  with  an  intensity  that 
must  have  left  some  margin  in  his  favor. 

Of  course  Tlie  Tribune  correspondents  had  their  share 
of  attention,  and  were  occasionally  exhibited  among  the 
Northern  monstrosities.  Had  we  been  statues  we  could, 
not  have  been  more  frozen  and  formal  to  the  hostile  vis- 
itors or  the  attacJces  of  the  prison.  We  never  spoke  to 
any  of  them,  save  in  the  way  of  business  inquiry,  unless 
we  were  addressed,  and  then  briefly  and  pertinently  aa 
possible.  They  generally  knew  our  status,  antecedents, 
and  opinions — and  if  they  did  not  they  could  easily  have 


270  FOUR  YEARS  LV  SECESSIA. 

discovered  them — and  therefore  questioned  us  very  little 
respecting  our  views  and  expectations.  We  were  freed 
from  tlie  perpetual  annoyances  to  which  we  had  been 
subjected  on  the  way  to  Richmond,  and  we  profoundly 
appreciated  the  relief. 

Various  were  the  methods  the  officers  adopted  to  pass 
the  time.  Tliose  of  a  lymphatic  temperament  slept  about 
fifteen  or  eighteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four.  Those 
of  a  very  nervous  and  active  mental  organization  played 
cards — poker,  euchre,  and  whist — checkers,  and  back- 
gammon ;  wrestled,  romped,  and  skylarked — as  the  sail- 
ors term  it — read  and  talked  about  past  campaigns 
and  future  prospects  ;  crushing  the  Rebellion,  and  set- 
tling the  affairs  of  the  Nation,  every  few  hours  of  the  day. 

The  weather  was  very  warm  and  sultry,  .and  in  the 
Prison,  of  course,  extremely  close,  and  sometimes  stifling. 
We  were  accustomed,  consequently,  to  wear  as  few 
clothes  as  possible,  but  went  around  in  nothing  but  draw- 
ers and  shirt,  without  shoes,  and,  sometimes,  even  with 
less  attire.  Fortunately,  there  was  a  bathing-tub  in  our 
quarters,  and  somebody  was  in  it  all  the  while.  At  any 
hour  of  the  night  we  could  hear  tlie  water  ninning,  and 
the  splashing  and  plunging  of  the  aqueous  enjoyers. 

No  doubt  that  had  much  to  do  with  our  health,  which, 
contrary  to  all  expectation,  was  quite  good  throughout 
the  Summer.  Tliere  were  few  deaths  during  the  four 
months  of  my  incarceration,  and  not  much  serious  illness. 
Very  strange  it  was  so,  when  we  remember  how  impure 
and  vitiated  the  atmosphere  was,  and  how  little  care  and 
comfort  we  could  obtain  when  once  sick. 

During  the  mid-Summer  some  of  us  profited  by  a  ladder 


LIBBY  PRISON.  2^1 

leading  to  the  roof  of  the  building,  by  which  tlie  subordi- 
nates of  the  Prison  ascended  for  the  purpose  of  raising 
and  taking  down  the  "Confederate"  flag  that  flew  every 
day  over  the  Libby.  When  we  went  to  the  hole  cut  in 
the  roof  for  ventilation,  and  placed  our  faces  over  it,  the 
air  from  below  was  so  corrupt,  heated,  and  steam-like, 
as  to  almost  suffocate  us  ;  and  yet  in  that  atmosphere  we 
were  forced  to  live,  and  breatlie,  and  have  our  being. 

When  it  was  discovered  that  we  were  obtaining  a  little 
fresh  air  after  sunset  upon  the  roof,  our  cruel  custodians 
ordered  us  down,  and  threatened  to  punish  us  severely 
and  close  the  aperture  for  ventilation  if  we  persisted  in 
going  up  there.  They  even  did  fasten  down  the  sky- 
light for  a  fortnight,  at  the  most  torrid  season  of  the  year, 
because  some  unfortunate  had  disobeyed  orders. 

That  was  a  fair  specimen  of  the  cruelty  of  our  keepers. 
We  did  no  harm  on  the  roof ;  no  one  could  even  see  us 
there  from  the  town  ;  and  yet  they  would  not  permit  us 
to  enjoy  the  blueness  of  the  sky  and  the  genial  air  of  the 
evening,  when  they  knew  we  were  gasping  and  panting 
in  our  mephitic  quarters  for  the  very  thing  they  denied  us. 

Shame,  shame,  uj)on  such  inexcusable  barbarity,  such 
motiveless  cruelty ! 

Soon  after  our  at-rival  in  Richmond,  a  paragraph  was 
copied  from  The  Tribune  into  the  papers  there,  speaking 
of  Major  Turner  as  the  "infernal  brute  that  commanded 
the  Libby."  At  that  time  Turner  had  not  revealed  him- 
self, and  I  supposed  the  denunciation  unmerited.  One 
day,  in  conversation  with  the  Major  on  this  subject,  he 
remarked,  that  if  he  were  caught  in  New  York  he  would 
probably  be  hanged.     I  told  him  I  thought  not ;  that  he 


272  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

had  no  doubt  been  misrepresented,  as  I  believed  then  he 
had.  Subsequently  I  learned  better  ;  and  now  I  indorse 
the  paragraj)li  in  question  most  fully  and  cordially. 

I  tliink  if  justice  Avere  meted  out  to  Major  Turner,  he 
would  be  executed  summarily,  and  that  the  Prison  In- 
spector, one  Richard  Turner  —  no  relative  of  the  com- 
mandant's, but  foiTaerly  a  Baltimore  blackguard,  and 
aspirant  for  the  honors  of  Phig-uglyism — and  a  little 
puppy  named  Ross,  once  a  resident  of  New  York,  would 
share  his  fate.  They  did  every  thing  in  their  power  to 
persecute  prisoners,  and  richly  deserve  death  at  the  hands 
of  those  they  treated  so  cruelly.  Major  Turner  did  not 
do  harsh  things  himself,  so  far  as  I  loiew  ;  he  was  too 
politic  for  that ;  but  he  permitted  them  to  be  done, 
and  is,  of  course,  responsible  for  the  outrages,  and  they 
were  many,  practiced  upon  the  captives  under  his 
charge. 

Speaking  of  him,  he  was  guilty  of  a  veiy  small,  but 
entirely  characteristic  meanness  towards  us.  When  Mr. 
Colburn  of  Tlie  World  was  released,  he  very  kindly  left 
$50  in  Treasury  Notes  with  Major  Norris  for  our  use,  as 
we  were  likely  to  remain  in  durance  for  an  indefinite 
period.  Major  Norris  handed  the  amount  to  Major  Tur- 
ner, who  informed  us  there  were  $50  in  "Confederate" 
currency  in  his  office  to  our  credit.  I  told  him  Mr.  Colburn 
had  agreed  to  leave  us  the  sum  in  our  money,  which,  as 
he  was  aware,  was  worth  far  more  than  the  issues  of  the 
South.  The  Major  replied,  somewhat  nervously,  that  the 
notes  handed  to  him  were  "Confederate  ;"  and  that  was 
all  he  loiew  about  it.  He  simply  told  a  deliberate  false- 
hood for  the  purpose  of  cheating  us  out  of  a  few  dollars. 

I 


UBBY  PRISON.  273 

And  yet  he  assumes  to  be  a  high-toned,  honorable  gentle- 
man ;  and,  according  to  the  Southern  standard,  perhaps 
he  is. 

During  our  confinement  at  the  Libby,  Captains  Flinn 
and  Sawyer  were  selected  by  lot  to  be  executed,  in  retal- 
iation for  two  Kentuckians  whom  General  Burnside  had 
caused  to  be  shot  for  recruiting  within  our  lines. 

"Well  do  I  remember  the  morning — it  was  during  the 
latter  part  of  June,  I  think — the  Captains  were  called  out 
of  their  quarters.  They  hurried  down  stairs  ga3dy,  and 
even  boisterously',  supjiosing  they  were  to  be  paroled. 
They  were  taken  into  a  vacant  room  on  the  lower  floor  of 
the  prison,  fonned  in  a  hollow  square,  and  there  infoi-med 
solemnly  and  impressively,  by  Major  Turner — even  he 
seemed  moved  on  the  occasion — that  he  had  a  very 
painful  duty  to  perform,  at  the  same  time  reading  an 
order  from  General  Winder  to  select  two  of  the.  oflicei-s 
present  for  immediate  execution. 

Imagine  the  sensations  of  the  Captains — some  fifty  in 
number — at  that  moment !  What  a  terrible  reaction  must 
have  followed  !  What  an  icy  chill  of  hoiTor  must  that 
announcement  have  struck  to  their  hearts,  swelling  a  few 
minutes  before  with  the  hope  of  early  restoration  to  free- 
dom. 

It  was  not  the  fear  of  death  that  blanched  so  many  war- 
worn cheeks,  and  shook  so  many  brave  hearts  ;  it  was  the 
suddenness,  the  horror  of  the  idea— the  cold*,  deliberate 
determination,  by  lot,  of  a  violent  death  to  two  of  their 
innocent  companions-in-arms. 

One  of  our  chaplains  was  requested  to  draw  the  names 
that  had  been  written  on  slips  of  j^aper  and  thrown  into  a 


274  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SEOESSIA. 

"box,  and  the  first  two  were  to  "be  the  victims.  One  migM 
have  heard  the  fall  of  a  rose-leaf  at  that  awful  moment. 
Every  breath  seemed  suspended ;  every  heart  bursting 
with  its  pulsation.  Eyes  kindled  with  burning  anxiety, 
and  lips  quivered  with  suppressed  emotion.  Fearful 
scene  !  who  can  forget  it  ? 

The  names  were  drawn  and  announced ;  and  that 
hollow  square  took  a  long  breath  that  was  audible  in 
the  painfully  silent  room.  The  selected  Captains  did  not 
change  countenance.  They  were  pale  before  ;  but  they 
turned^  no  paler.  Their  mouths  closed  more  firmly,  as  if 
they  were  summoning  the  resolution  of  brave  men  to  die 
bravely,  and  they  walked  mournfully,  though  silently, 
away. 

They  were  taken  before  General  "Winder — I  am  very  glad 
he  is  dead — who  abused  them  shamefully  when  he  knew 
they  believed  they  had  only  a  few  days,  perhaps  hours,  to 
live — and  thence  removed  to  the  subterranean  dun- 
geons of  the  Libby.  Every  one  knows  how  General  Lee, 
the  son  of  Robert  E.  Lee,  and  Captain  Winder  were  made 
hostages  for  tfi^linn  and  SaAvyer,  and  how  the  Rebel  au- 
thorities finally  released  the  chosen  victims,  although  the 
Richmond  papers  clamored  for  their  blood,  and  bitterly 
denounced  Jefierson  Davis  because  he  did  not  dare  to  ex- 
ecute them.  As  I  told  them  they  would,  the  very  day  of 
their  allotment,  they  obtained  their  freedom  long  before 
Tlie  Tribune  Correspondents  ;  and  yet  their  position  was 
by  no  means  pleasant.  The  Rebels  were  growing  despe- 
rate even  then  ;  and  it  was  not  unreasonable  to  suppose 
they  might  attempt  the  inauguration  of  a  bloody  retalia- 
tion in  the  hope  of  compelling,  what  they  had  otherwise 


LIBBY  PRISON.  275 

failed  to  secure,  the  interference  of  European  powers  for 
the  sake  of  humanity. 

The  day  of  the  drawing  was  a  gloomy  one  in  the  Libby. 
We  all  felt  if  the  Captains  were  executed,  that  no  one  was 
safe  ;  that  retaliation  once  begun,  no  one  could  say  where 
it  would  end. 

Mr.  Richardson  and  myself  knew  our  prospects  would 
be  unusually  brilliant  for  sudden  removal  from  the  terres- 
trial ball,  if  the  execution  of  prisoners  once  became  the 
fashion  ;  and  we  discussed  with  a  grim  kind  of  humor  the 
sensations  we  would  possibly  experience  when  we  were 
led  oufto  be  shot  or  hanged.  I  expressed  a  decided  pai-ti- 
ality  for  shooting,  as  more  military,  genteel,  and  dramatic  ; 
and  denounced  hanging  as  an  undignified  and  ungentle- 
manly  mode  of  exit  even  out  of  Rebeldom.  I  remem- 
bered what  a  strong  bias  I  had  always  had  against  the 
gallows,  and  began  to  believe  that  the  early  developed 
feeling  was  a  premonition  of  my  fate.  I  lost  no  sleep, 
however,  over  the  matter.  I  had  as  much  as  I  could  do 
to  live  there,  anyhow,  and  concluded,  if  I  had  to  stay  in 
Southern  prisons  for  many  months,  hanging  might  not  be 
so  bad,  after  all. 

On  the  2d  of  September,  1863,  we  were  transferred  from 
the  Libby  to  Castle  Thunder  — a  movement  we  by  no 
means  relished,  as  the  reputation  of  the  Castle  was  ex- 
tremely bad  even  in  Richmond— but  of  which,  of  course, 
we  would  have  been  too  proud  to  complain,  even  if  com- 
plaining had  been  of  any  advantage. 

To  leave  the  officers  with  whom  we  had  been  for  four 
months,  and  among  whom  we  had  many  warm  friends, 
was  a  sore  trial,  especially  when  we  were  going  to  a  place 


276  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

where  the  worst  class  of  prisoners  was  kept ;  "but  we 
bundled  up  our  blankets  ;  shook  hands  with  hundreds  of 
men  whose  countenances  we  could  not  recognize  in  the 
crowd  ;  and  hurried  down  stairs  into  Carey  street,  to  gaze 
at  the  pallid  faces  peering  at  us  through  the  bars,  and 
wishing  us  good  fortune  wherever  we  might  go. 

The  Libb}^  as  I  have  said,  was  the  most  endurable 
prison  of  which  jve  were  inmates  ;  and  I  may  here  state 
that  our  officers  were  in  every  way  better  treated  than  any 
other  class  of  prisoners.  Indeed,  the}^  can  have  little  idea 
of  the  sufferings  of  captives  in  the  South,  judging  by  their 
own  ex]5erience.  Citizens  who  were  held  in  anotller  part 
of  the  Libby,  Avliile  we  were  there,  were  most  inhumanly 
treated :  they  were  not  allowed  to  purchase  any  thing, 
though  their  rations  were  so  short  that  they  were  con- 
stantly hungry,  and  we,  in  the  officers'  quarters,  supplied 
them  surreptitiously  with  bread  and  a  few  of  tlie  common 
necessities  of  existence,  which  the}^  devoui'ed  like  famish- 
ing men. 

The  Southerners  have  such  love  of  approbation,  and 
draw  the  line  so  markedly  between  gentlemen  and  com- 
moners, that  they  hesitate  "'o  show  to  the  officers,  supposed 
by  the  Army  Regulations  to  be  of  a  different  race  from  the 
privates,  the  worst  side  of  their  character.  Beyond  the 
petty  tyranny,  superciliousness,  and  generally  offensive 
bearing  of  the  officials  at  the  Libby,  we  had,  during  our 
stay,  little  to  complain  of,  at  least  compared  to  what  we 
saw  and  suffered  elsewhere  in  Secessia. 


THE  KITCHEN  CABINET  AT  TIIE  LII3BY.  277 


CHAPTER  XXXyill. 

THE  KITCHEN  CABINET  AT  THE  LIBBT. 

Disappointment  and  Disgust  in  Prison  Life. — The  Union  Officers  as  Servants  and 
Scullions. — Journalistic  Cooking  and  its  Trials. — The  First  Breakfast. — Horrors 
ofth^  Culinary  Art. — Interior  View  of  the  Kitchen. — Grotesque  and  Mortifying 
Scenes. — Battles  of  the  Saucepans  and  Skillets. — Complaint,  Clamor,  and  Con- 
fusion, 

Before  my  capture,  I  had  imagined  all  manner  of 
repulsive  surroundings  and  annoying  incidents  in  Rebel 
Prison ;  but  I  had  supposed  that  War-captives  were 
at  least  allowed  full  leisure,  as  some  compensation  for  the 
loss  of  freedom. 

When  I  reached  the  Libby  Prison,  I  was  surprised 
and  exceedingly  indignant  to  learn  that  it  was  the  duty 
of  the  Officers,  the  Correspondents  of  the  Tribune  in- 
cluded, to  clean  their  own  quarters  and  prepare  their 
OAvn  food.  / 

That  seemed  an  outrage  upon  propriety,  designed  to 
degrade  gentlemen  by  association,  education,  and  pro- 
fession, to  the  rank  of  cooks  and  scullions,  and  filled  me 
with  a  violently  insurgent  spirit. 

When  I  came  to  reflect,  however,  that  what  we  did 
was  for  our  own  good  ;  that  we  preserved  our  health  and 
insured  our  comparative  comfort  by  attending  to  those 
really  menial  offices,  I  grew  reasonably  resigned. 


278  FOUR  YEAPwS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Subsequently,  -svlien  I  "burst  into  an  expression  of  anger 
and  disgust  to  tlie  Commandant  of  tlie  Libby  one  day,  lie 
informed  me  lie  would  be  glad  to  cook  our  rations,  but 
that  tlie  Officers  generally  preferred  to  prepare  tbem  for 
themselves. 

That  statement — very  remarkable  do  I  regard  the  fact 
— I  found  to  be  true. 

The  rations — bread,  bacon,  and  rice  at  the  time — were 
so  vilely  cooked  by  the  negroes,  that  the  Officers  had 
requested  permission  to  perform  the  culinary  duties,  and 
obtained  it. 

They  disliked  watery  soup,  with  dirt,  hemp,  pebbles, 
and  roaches,  as  condiments,  and  muscular  beef  boiled 
to  superlative  dryness.  They  believed  they  could  sup- 
port life  by  the  consumption  of  less  dirt,  if  they  took  the 
matter  into  their  own  hands  ;  and  they  deemed  the 
experiment  worth  trying. 

The  officers  were  divided  into  large  and  small  messes — 
the  former  containing  twenty  to  thirty,  and  the  latter  four 
to  six  members — and  every  day  one  or  more  of  the  mem- 
bers was  appointed  to  do  the  cooking  and  dish-wasliing, 
and  perform  the  other  poetic  et  ceteras  for  the  twenty-four 
hours. 

The  third  day,  it  came  my  turn  to  preside  over  the 
destinies  of  the  Kitchen ;  and  most  alarming  was  the 
announcement. 

I  would  rather  have  attempted  to  capture  Richmond, 
or  pay  off  the  IN'ational  Debt,  or  be  happy  in  the  Libby  ; 
but,  as  I  could  employ  no  substitute,  I  was  bound  to  rely 
on  myself. 

The  cooking  was  not  very  extensive,   nor  were  the 


THE  KITCHEN  CABINET  AT  THE  LIBBY.  279 

means ;  but  I  felt  as  awkward  as  if  I  were  about  to  address 
the  Tycoon  in  Japanese. 

Imagine  the  situation  of  an  unfortunate  mortal  who  not 
only  had  never  done  any  thing  of  the  kind,  but  had  never 
seen  it  done. 

The  stewing  of  ''Saddle-Rocks"  in  a  chafing-dish,  or 
the  preparation  of  a  lobster  salad,  was  as  far  as  I  had 
ever  advanced  in  the  mysteries  of  the  cuisine. 

If  I  could  have  had  another  wish  beside  that  for  my 
liberty,  I  would  have  asked  to  be  metamorphosed  into 
tlie  humblest  of  cooks. 

There  was  no  use  of  fretting. 

Complaint  never  cooked  a  piece  of  bacon,  nor  made  a 
fire  in  a  broken  stove. 

I  set  to  work  ;  my  companions,  who  had  had  their 
experience,  laughing  at  my  earnest  endeavors,  and  my 
ill-concealed  disgust. 

There  were  very  few  dishes ;  the  stoves  were  in  a 
wretched  condition  ;  the  wood  was  green  ;  the  bacon  was 
tough  ;  and  my  knife  was  dull. 

After  laboring  an  hour,  the  perspiration  streaming 
down  my  face,  I  succeeded  in  getting  some  pieces  of 
bacon  over  the  fire,  and  spilling  the  grease  upon  the 
only  pantaloons  I  possessed.  In  another  hour  I  had 
fried  some  bread  in  the  pan,  and  at  the  close  of  the 
third  I  had  boiled  a  little  water  impregnated  with  burnt 
corn,  which  the  Rebels,  with  a  delightful  idealism, 
termed  coffee. 

We  stood  up  to  breakfast, — memories  of  the  Fifth 
Avenue  and  Delmonico's,  come  not  near  ! — one  tin  dish, 
a  block  of  wood,  and  a  piece  of  brown  paper  serving  as 


280  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SECESSIA. 

the  plates  ;  a  pen-blade,  our  fingers,  and  a  sliarp  stick,  da 
knives  and  forks. 

I  was  very  hungry  "wlion  I  undertook  the  matutinal 
meal ;  but  my  efforts  had  destroyed  my  appetite. 

I  stood  and  looked  on  the  rough  board  that  served  for 
a  table,  and  if  I  liad  been  a  woman  I  presume  I  should 
have  wept  like  Niobe,  and  declared  I  would  be  a  nun. 

Again  and  again  I  had  to  cook  that  day,  which  seemed 
as  if  it  would  never  end  ;  and  though  for  four  months  I 
sacrificed  myself  on  the  altar  of  the  Kitchen,  I  never 
became  reconciled  to  the  ultra-prosaic  obligation. 

Heavy  and  desolate  as  was  Prison  life,  the  hours  that 
divided  me  from  my  cooking-day  appeared  like  minutes, 
when  I  thought  of  that  dii-e  necessity. 

From  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  quite  dark  I 
then  passed  in  the  Kitchen ;  watching  my  opportunity 
to  get  some  vessel  on  one  of  the  fractured  stoves,  and 
seeing  that  no  one  took  it  off  when  it  was  once  on. 

Cooking  at  the  Libby  was  a  perpetual  struggle,  jar- 
ring, tumult,  and  annoyance  ;  not  infrequently  involving 
a  personal  encounter. 

A  man  who  could  have  preserved  his  temper  there 
would  have  excelled  human  nature. 

The  process  of  operating  in  the  kitchen  would  have 
irritated  a  saint,  and  made  Fenelon  blasphemous. 

Just  picture  the  place  to  yourself. 

In  a  room  twelve  by  twenty  feet  were  three  broken 
stoves,  in  which  at  least  seven  or  eight  hundred  men  had 
to  cook.  The  pans,  pails,  and  cups  were  very  few  ;  not 
one  where  twenty  were  needed. 

The  stoves  smoked  like  Vesuvius  ;  the  apartment  was 


THE  KITCHEN  CABINET  AT  THE  LIBBY.  281 

always  sky-color  ;  tlie  atmospliere  hot  and  pine-impreg- 
nated to  suffocation. 

One  -svas  required  to  wait  sometimes  an  hour  "before  he 
could  get  a  place  on  the  stove  ;  and,  as  soon  as  had,  he 
was  likely  to  lose  it  hy  some  other  person  removing  his 
dish,  and  putting  his  own  in  its  stead. 

One  could  not  lay  doAvn  a  knife  or  fork  without  miss- 
ing it ;  could  not  turn  his  back  without  being  deprived 
of  some  portion  of  his  rights. 

I  would  have  liked  to  see  the  South  try  to  get  its 
rights  there. 

Astr?ea  lierseK  could  not  have  obtained  hers. 

Under  such  circumstances  there  was  constant  bicker- 
ing, wrangling,  and  contention,  with  more  violations  of 
the  Third  Commandment  than  I  care  to  record. 

Threats  were  made,  insults  offered,  and  even  blows 
exchanged  ;  all  of  which  appears  now  very  silly  and 
nndignified  ;  but  then  I  did  not  wonder  at  it. 

We  were  all  in  a  condition  of  suppressed  irritation. 
Our  nerves  were  morbidly  acute.  The  law  of  our  Being 
read  backwards.  Our  temperament  was  revolutionized. 
We  were  disposed  to  visit  on  each  other  what  under  dif* 
ferent  circumstances  would  have  been  visited  on  the 
common  foe. 

The  mishaps  and  contretemps  of  the  Kitchen  were  too 
numerous  to  mention,  and,  to  a  man  who  could  keep  his 
temper,  exceedingly  ludicrous. 

It  was  singular,  such  was  the  aggravation  and  provo- 
cation at  all  times,  that  there  were  so  few  actual  pugilis- 
tic engagements.  We  had  a  hundred  incipient  affairs  of 
the   kmd  every  day,  and   several  p(M-sonal  encounters 


282  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

were  usually  generated  out  of  that  number.  General!)'', 
however,  the  bitterness  of  feeling  wasted  itself  in 
words. 

All  the  prisoners  felt  that  it  was  disgraceful  for  officers 
of  the  United  States  Anny  to  be  engaged  in  personal 
quarrels  ;  but  when  a  man  had  his  vessel,  which  he  had 
been  two  hours  in  getting,  stolen  almost  before  his  eyes  ; 
had  hot  soup  poured  down  his  back ;  scalding  coffee 
turned  into  his  boots  ;  or  his  rice-pail  tilled  with  pota- 
toes ;  was  it  strange  that  he  was  deprived  of  his  amiabil- 
ity, and  ventured  the  assertion  that  he  could  whip 
somebody — it  mattered  not  whom  ? 

The  scenes  that  occurred  there  every  morning  were 
worthy  of  the  pencil  of  Hogarth  or  Cruikshank. 

The  room  was  crowded  to  excess.  Everybody  was 
trying  to  do  what  only  one-twelfth  of  those  present  could 
accomplish.     There  were  fifty  claimants  for  every  vessel. 

The  small  messes  came  into  collision  with  the  large 
messes.  The  war  raged  with  the  bitterness  of  the  con- 
tests between  the  houses  of  .York  and  Lancaster,  or  the 
rival  factions  of  the  Guelphs  and  Ghibellines. 

Such  a  conglomeration  of  interests  and  purposes  ;  such 
a  chaos  of  voices  ;  such  a  jostling  and  confusion  ;  such 
an  oUa  podrida  of  the  absurd,  the  excited,  the  belliger- 
ent, and  the  profane  could  not  well  have  been  witnessed 
anywhere  else. 

And  then  the  conviction  that  the  resentments  and 
quarrels  were  altogether  mean  and  unworthy  ;  the  idea 
that  gentlemen  should  fly  into  a  passion,  and  descend  to 
the  morals  of  the  Prize  Ring,  about  a  few  miserable  iron 
skillets  and  tin  pans  ;  should  for  no  higher  object  imitate 


TIIE   KITCUEN   CABINET  AT   THE   LIBBY.  283 

tlie  fisliTvoraen  of  Billingsgate,  mortified  all  concerned 
when  coolness  and  reflection  came. 

Every  officer,  when  the  cooking  was  over  for  the  day, 
promised  amendment,  and  vowed  for  the  future  he  would 
observe  decency  and  decorum. 

But  when  the  dreadful  cooldng-day  came  around  again, 
those  good  resolutions  were  dispersed  into  thin  air,  and 
the  ancient  Adam  asserted  itself  in  spite  of  good-breed- 
ing, self-discipline,  and  the  sense  of  propriety. 

Through  the  thick  smoke  of  the  Libby  Kitchen  a  con- 
fusion of  tongues  was  heard  that  reminded  one  of  his 
idea  of  the  Tower  of  Babel. 

Some  of  the  foreign  officers  became  so  excited  that  they 
could  not  do  justice  to  their  feelings  in  the  English  ver- 
nacular, but  appealed  to  German,  French,  and  Italian  — 
we  had  a  number  of  nationalities  in  the  Prison — for  full 
expression  of  their  fancied  wrongs  and  woes. 

Many  of  them  declared  that  they  "would  rather  go 
through  a  battle  than  spend  a  day  in  the  kitchen— and  I 
shared  their  opinion  fully  ;  for,  grotesque  and  contempt- 
ible as  those  things  appear  at  present,  they  were  our  life 
then,  and  weighed  with  a  now  incomprehensible  burden 
on  our  spirit  and  our  brain. 

Who  that  was  there  will  ever  be  able  entirely  to  forget 
the  Libby  Kitchen  ;  the  struggle  between  the  small  and 
the  large  messes  ;  the  great  contest  of  the  pans  and 
plates  ;  the  sieges  of  the  skillets  ;  the  raids  upon  the 
wood-pile  ;  the  defeats  at  breakfast ;  the  drawn  battles 
at  dinner ;  tlie  triumphant  victories  at  supper  ;  the  irre- 
pressible conflict  between  bacon  and  business ;  rice  and 
rhetoric  ;  dried  apples  and  despair  ? 

19 


284  FOUR   YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

CELL-LIFE  IX  RICHMOND. 

Prison  within  a  Prison. — Full  Appreciation  of  Sterne's  Starling. — Evil  Destiny  of 
the  Tribune  Correspondents. — One  of  our  many  Failures  and  its  Result. — 
Interior  View  of  a  Rebel  Cell. — The  Rare  Society  we  found  there. — Glance  at 
the  Gross  Corruption  in  Secessia. — Novel  Means  of  making  Confederate  Cur- 
rency.— Horrors  of  Southern  Dungeons. 

To  dwell  in  a  prison  within  a  prison  is  one  of  the  ex- 
periences the  War  Correspondents  enjoyed  in  Richmond, 
and  which  not  a  few  of  our  officers  and  soldiers  have 
shared  with  them. 

As  I  have  mentioned,  we  of  the  Tribune  were  always 
endeavoiing,  like  Sterne's  Starling,  to  get  out— by  the  by, 
I  never  fully  felt  the  truth  of  that  bit  of  fine  writing  in 
the  "Sentimental  Journey"  until  I  had  been  a  prisoner 
nearly  a  year — and,  like  the  poor  bu'd,  we  found  it  a  hard 
task  to  accomplish  our  freedom. 

At  Castle  Thunder  we  alwaj's  had  some  plan ;  and  as 
often  as  we  failed,  we  formed  another.  We  had  made 
arrangements,  through  trusty  messengers,  where  to  go  in 
the  city,  in  the  event  of  our  breaking  the  bonds  that 
fettei-ed  us ;  and  we  felt  confident  our  escape  could  not 
be  much  longer  delayed. 

The  Destinies  seemed  opposed  to  ns,  however.  All  our 
endeavors  blossomed  without  fruit.  We  failed  almost 
^ways  through  some  other  agency  than  our  own ;  and  at 


CELL-LIFE  IN"  RIOmiOXD.  285 

last  we  came  to  look  upon  ourselves  as  the  Jonahs  of  any 
enterprise  of  the  kind. 

Any  tunnel  in  which  we  were  interested  was  sure  to  he 
exposed,  or  too  long  deferred,  or  to  tumble  in  at  the  very 
moment  it  was  ready  to  be  tapped. 

Any  guard  that  we  had  gotten  into  a  proper  condition 
to  take  our  money,  and  give  us  our  freedom,  was  certain 
to  be  detailed,  or  fall  sick,  or  die,  or  get  drunk  just  when 
we  needed  him. 

Any  night  on  which  we  depended  for  complete  dark- 
ness, proved  to  be  decked  out  with  at  least  a  thousand 
additional  stars  and  an  extra  flood  of  moonlight. 

Tlie  Elements  and  Fortune  both  seemed  to  have  arra3^ed 
themselves  against  the  "historians  of  the  War  ;"  and  we 
marveled  much  when  the  long  night  of  adversity  would 
end. 

In  one  thing  we  were  lucky  enough.  The  authorities 
of  the  Prison  either  did  not  suspect  us  of  being  Catilines, 
or,  if  they  did,  gave  us  no  intimation  of  their  suspicion. 
That  was  somewhat  singular ;  for  a  citizen  of  Maryland, 
who  assumed  to  be  a  most  earnest  Unionist  and  a  most 
zealous  Christian,  we  knew  was  a  perpetual  spy  upon 
all  the  inmates  of  the  room  in  which  we  were  confined  ; 
and  we  knew  also  that  he  was  morally  certain  we  had 
tried  a  score  of  times  to  get  out. 

On  a  cei-tain  night  the  thing  was  all  arranged.  Tliere 
was  to  be  no  postponement  on  account  of  tlie  weather, 
and  positively  no  change  of  performance. 

At  twelve  o'clock  one  of  the  JVeto  YorTc  Herald  Corre- 
spondents, Mr.  Richardson,  myself,  and  several  others, 
were  to  go  out  of  the  room — the  sentinel  having  agreed 


286  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

to  unlock  the  door — down  into  the  street,  by  other  guards 
who  were  in  our  pay  and  coniBdence. 

We  arose  from  our  blankets — we  had  lain  down  for  a 
feint — put  on  our  clothes,  and  were  ready  to  set  out. 

The  sentinel  wished  to  see  our  money. 

The  Herald  man  handed  him  a  roll  of  bank-notes,  and 
when  they  were  returned,  they  proved  to  be  ones  instead 
of  fives,  as  the  Correspondent  insisted.  That  was  a  pal- 
pable theft ;  and  we  concluded  if  the  guard  Avould  cheat 
us  on  tlie  inside  of  the  bars,  we  could  not  depend  on  him 
on  the  outside. 

So  we  fell  back  with  maledictions  on  the  perfidious 
Rebel. 

The  next  morning  the  Bohemian  discovered  liis  mistake. 
He  had  given  the  guard  the  wrong  roll  of  notes  ;  and  we 
lost  our  chances  for  freedom — that  time  at  least — by  our 
own  blunder. 

The  subsequent  afternoon  we  three  Bohemians  were 
called  out,  and  informed  that  we  would  be  consigned  to 
a  cell ;  and  before  evening  we  were  transferred  there. 

A  dismal,  dirty  place,  that  cell.  It  was  about  twenty 
by  twelve  feet ;  the  floor  incrusted  with  filth.  But  one 
window  served  to  let  in  any  light.  The  walls  and  ceiling 
were  begrimed  with  smoke  and  years  of  accumulated 
dust. 

^N'o  ventilation  in  the  cell,  which  was  sorely  needed,  as 
tliere  were  tubs  in  the  den  that  had  stood  there,  and  in- 
fected the  atmosphere  for  many  weeks,  if  not  months. 

A  temple  of  Cloacina  was  a  charming  abode,  and  a 
smoke-house  a  rosy  Eden,  compared  to  that  cell.  Not 
a  box,  bench,  or  even  stick  of  wood,  was  in  the  place. 


CELL-LIFE  IN  RICHMOND.  287 

A  small  "broken  stove  constituted  its  sole  piece  of  fur- 
niture. 

The  cell  brought  to  our  mind  the  Yicksburg  jail,  and 
we  laughed  at  the  magnificent  preparations  made  for  our 
reception.  The  first  thing  we  did  was  to  give  two  or 
three  handfuls  of  Rebel  currency — we  certainlj'-  could 
afibrd  to  be  generous  "with  that  kind  of  "  money" — to  an 
attaclie  of  the  Castle,  and  ask  for  wood,  a  wash-basin,  a 
stool,  <S:c. 

We  did  not  relish  the  change,  but  we  concluded  to 
make  the  best  of  the  worst,  and  immediately  set  about 
rendering  ourselves — in  the  true  Bohemian  style — as  little 
uncomfortable  as  possible.  We  lighted  our  pipes  to  im- 
prove the  atmosphere,  and  talked  of  New  York  hotel- 
life  ;  of  handsome  furniture,  epicurean  dishes,  and  the 
very  opposite  of  our  surroundings. 

At  a  late  hour  we  rolled  ourselves  in  our  blankets,  and 
slept  quite  well,  in  spite  of  the  repulsiveness  of  the  place. 
In  the  morning,  oiir  companions  in  the  room  we  had  left 
sent  us  various  articles  of  food  from  the  boxes  received 
from  the  North,  and  kind  expressions  of  sympathy  and 
hopes  that  we  would  soon  be  released  from  our  prison 
within  a  prison. 

The  same  day  some  seven  new  personages  were  sent 
into  our  cell  for  a  similar  offense  to  ours.  Tliey  were 
decidedly  mauvah  sujets^  and  had  all  belonged  to  the 
SoutlK^rn  army.  For  two  years  they  had  been  guilty  of 
all  manner  of  crime — theft,  burglary,  forgery,  stabbing, 
shooting,  and  I  know  not  what  else.  Their  faces  reflected 
their  characters,  and  would  have  been  admirable  additions 
to  the  Tombs'  gallery  of  notorious  rogues. 


288  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Dt'liglitful  society,  tliouglit  we,  for  gentlemen ;  and  we 
referred  to  Young  Mirabel  in  the  company  of  the  bravos. 

Alas  !  there  was  no  Oriana  to  deliver  us  from  our  pecu- 
liar friends  !  We  were  obliged  to  await  the  inexorable 
logic  of  events,  and  we  waited  long. 

Our  bevy  of  fresh  visitors,  with  all  their  vices,  treated 
us  with  entire  courtesy  and  kindness.  They  offered  to  do 
little  offices,  and  really  assisted  us  in  many  ways.  One  of 
them  was  extremely  desirous  to  have  me  write  hun  a  love- 
letter  to  his  inamorata,  a  bar-maid  or  kitchen  queen  re- 
siding in  the  city. 

I  gratified  him,  and  indited  a  classical  hlllei-doux  to 
his  proletarian  mistress,  with  which  he  exjDressed  much 
delight ;  the  only  objection  to  it  being  his  inability  to 
understand  what  it  was  all  about. 

The  rogues  grew  very  communicative,  and  told  us  how 
much  money  they  used  to  make,  twelve  or  fifteen  months 
before,  by  "shoving  a  Mick,"  "running  a  kink,"  and 
other  entertainments,  the  nature  of  which,  from  the  occult 
language  of  the  revealers,  was  entirely  enigmatic. 

Our  friends  undertook  to  enlighten  us  on  the  character 
of  their  speculations,  informing  us  that  "running  a  Mick" 
was  to  get  an  Irishman  drunk ;  induce  him  to  enlist  for 
two  or  three  hundred '  dollars ;  obtain  five  times  that  sum 
fiom  some  citizen  desirous  of  procuring  a  substitute  ;  and 
after  sending  the  Hibernian  to  Camp  Lee  in  the  forenoon, 
to  go  out  for  him  towards  evening  ;  bring  him  in  again, 
and  sell  him  to  some  other  mdividual  requu'ing  a  repre- 
sentative in  the  field. 

"Coming  the  kink"  was  to  steal  a  negro  from  ifhe 
country,  and  dispose  of  him  in  town ;  one  of  the  party 


CELL-LIFE   IN   rjCHMOND;  280 

himself  pretending  to  be  an  African — liaving  previously 
blacked  up,  and  put  on  a  Avig — and  a  brother  or  near 
relative  of  the  melanthrope  in  question.  Those  fellows 
would  steal  the  Etliiop  and  sell  him  again ;  and  some- 
times they  had  bartered  away  the  same  darkey  seven  or 
eight  times  in  one  month. 

Those  revelations  were  highly  edifying,  of  course. 
They  gave  us  such  a  new  idea  of  the  peculiarities  of 
trade  that  we  have  ever  since  confessed  our  ignorance 
of  some  of  its  branches. 

Some  of  the  rogues  had  been  traveling  through  the 
South  for  two  years,  drawing  the  jiay  of  LieutenantSj 
Captains,  and  Majors,  though  they  never  had  been  more 
than  privates,  and  had  only  carried  muskets  until  they 
found  it  convenient  to  run  away.  In  the  line  of  desertion 
they  had.  been  very  energetic.  They  assured  me  they  had 
belonged  to  twelve  or  thirteen  regiments  at  different  times, 
and  had  engaged  themselves  as  substitutes  whenever 
oi)portunity  offered. 

They  were  a  rare  coterie  of  gentlemen,  and  I  greatly 
admired  the  delicacy  of  their  organization,  and  their 
sublimated  ideas  of  honor.  They  furnished  us  ^vith 
some  knowledge  of  the  cort-uption  that  existed  in 
Secessia,  by  assuring  us  that  there  were  hundreds  of 
bogus  officers  in  every  State,  who  had  swindled  the 
Treasury  out  of  millions  of  dollars. 

"Confound  their  old  rags  !"  said  onr  heroes  of  Alsatia, 
in  justification  of  their  dishonesty,   "what  harm  is  there 

in  stealing  their  d d  trasli  ?     They  ought   to  pay  a 

man  for  ].ntting  it  in  cuTulation." 

The  fellows  were  adventurous,  too. 


:00  FOUPw   YEARS   IX   SECESSIA. 

They  had  frequently  made  their  escape,  but  always 
contrived  to  be  brought  back.  Tliey  had  changed  their 
names  so  often  that  they  did  not  recognize,  or  had  for- 
gotten, the  one  tlie}^  originally  bore.  They  had  been  in 
every  department  of  dislionest  enterprise — from  watch- 
stuffing  to  garroting,  and  had  not  committed  murder  only 
because  they  did  not  believe  it  good  policy. 

I  asked  one  of  tlieir  number:    "Wliat  is  Mr.  's 

calling  ?    What  does  he  do  for  a  livelihood  ?" 

"  He  ?  Oh,  he  doesn't  do  much  now.  He's  in  the  bur- 
glary business  a  little,  but  it  hasn't  paid  him  very  well 
lately." 

The  burglary  business!  My  question-answerer  spoke 
as  if  it  were  an  entirely  legitimate  avocation,  and  no 
doubts  were  to  be  expressed  thereof. 

The  sacred  seven  related  their  manner  of  escape  at 
different  times,  which  displayed  no  little  ingenuity,  and 
rather  interested  us  who  had  yet  so  much  to  accomplish 
in  that  way. 

They  liad  gone  out  of  the  Castle  in  broad  daylight, 
with  pens  behind  their  ears  and  slips  of  paper  in  their 
hands  ;  tlie  guards  supposing  they  were  clerks  connected 
with  the  Prison.  * 

They  had  sooted  their  faces,  and  changed  clothes 
with  some  of  the  negroes,  and  gone  out  at  night  to  their 
quarters,  whence  they  could  pass  over  the  roof  of  an  out- 
house, and,  dropping  down  into  an  alley,  get  away  before 
the  guard  could  tire  on  them. 

They  had  slipped  out  behind  detectives,  pretending 
to  be  their  deputies,  and  had  exhausted  their  ingenuity 
in  their  endeavor  to  deceive  the  guard.     One  of  them  had 


CELL-LIFE   IN  KICHMOND.  201 

contrived  to  obtain  a  woman's  apparel,  and,  liabiting  liim- 
self  in  it,  luid  passed  the  sentinels  "witliout  exciting  sus- 
picion. Tliey  had  even  gotten  into  empty  barrels,  and 
been  driven  out  in  wagons  by  the  negroes. 

For  nearly  two  weeks  we  were  kept  in  the  cell,  during 
which  we  smoked  a  great  deal,  and  became  exceedingly 
disgusted  with  ourselves  and  the  world  at  large. 

How  we  paced  the  floor  to  and  fro !  How  we  wore 
smiles  rather  sardonic  on  our  lips,  and  forced  every  day's 
bitterness  of  feeling  into  our  hearts !  How  we  grew 
skeptical  of  every  one,  even  our  nearest  friends,  and 
doubted  if  we  had  any!  How  we  scoffed  at  the  "dis- 
interested motives"  of  the  great  World,  and  vowed  that 
such  things  as  affection  and  sympathy  did  not  exist  out- 
side of  the  poet' s  page. 

We  became  cynical  in  spite  of  ourselves,  and  reached 
Schopenhauer's  plane — hoping  nothing,  expecting  noth- 
ing, caring  for  nothing. 

Few  persons,  unless  they  have  had  the  experience,  can 
determine  how  much  a  long  captivity  dries  up  the  heart, 
narrows  the  mind,  and  withers  all  the  freshness  of  exist- 
ence. 

Shut  out  from  every  refining  and  humanizing  influence, 
deprived  of  the  sight  of  Beauty,  of  the  sense  of  Fra- 
grance, of  the  sound  of  Melody,  a  man  of  any  imagination 
or  sensibility  must  be  imeducated  back  to  a  condition  of 
spiritTial  barbarism,  and  be  inoculated  with  a  moroseness 
and  skepticism  years  Avill  not  eradicate,  nor  the  assui*ance 
of  love  and  friendship  altogether  remove. 

His  captivity  leaves  on  his  soul  the  shadow  that  is 
never  lifted,  and  so  rudely  shatters  frail  barks  of  Hope 


292  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

and  Beauty,  wlncli  erst  sailed  smootlily  on  the  unruffled 
sea  of  liis  Being,  that  they  never  dare  venture  forth  in 
the  future  from  the  closed  harbor  of  his  isolated  heart. 

Out  of  that  noisome,  repulsive  cell  went  we  to  our  old 
quarters,  parting  from  our  fortnight-old  companions  of 
" Mick-shovers"  and  "kink-comers"  ^vithout  any  agony 
of  spirit,  that  the  sumptuous  splendor  of  that  most  roman- 
tic of  Castles,  and  the  deliciousness  of  its  aromatic  atmos- 
phere would  not  soon  remove. 

In  the  Citizens'  room,  as  it  was  called,  we  were  greeted 
by  those  from  whom  we  had  been  temporarily  separated, 
as  if  we  had  come  out  of  bondage  to  freedom ;  and  indeed 
the  old  quarters,  dreary  and  disagreeable  as  they  were, 
opened  to  us  on  our  return  with  a  breath  of  the  far-off 
fi"agraiice  of  Paradise. 

A  brief  sketch  have  I  given  here  of  cell-life  as  expe- 
rienced by  us  ;  and  though  it  presents  no  very  attractive 
picture,  it  was  bright  and  beautiful  as  a  Claude  or 
Poussin,  compared  to  the  experience  of  some  other  cap- 
tives. 

Some  of  the  cells  of  the  Libby  Prison  and  Castle 
Thunder  Avere  such  as  vre  would  not  think  to  find  in 
the  present  century.  The  former  were  under  ground — 
damp,  dark  and  dismal  in  tlie  extreme,  and  so  unwhole- 
some that  I  have  known  officers  confined  there  a  week  to 
sink  under  the  infliction,  and  suffer  from  a  serious  illness. 
The  brutes  at  the  Libby — most  conspicuous  among  whom 
were  the  Turners — have  thrown  Union  officers  into  those 
vile  cells  for  accidentally  expectorating  on  tlie  floor,  for 
giving  a  piece  of  bread  to  some  captive  more  unfortunate 
than  they,  and  other  trivial  offenses. 


CELL-LIFE   IN    KICILMOXD.  293 

^^^len  officers  atteiiiptod  to  escape,  or  were  recaptured 
after  escai)ing,  tliey  were  placed  in  those  subterranean 
dens,  and  kept  there  on  tlie  smaUest  and  most  obnoxious' 
rations  for  weeks,  and  sometimes  months, — as  long  gen- 
erally as  they  could  be  kept  without  imminent  peril  to 
their  lives. 

I  have  known  our  officers  so  starved  there,  that  they 
caught  rats,  and  ate  them  with  the  greatest  relisli ;  and 
so  broken  in  health  and  constitution,  that  they  did  not 
recover  for  months,  and  will  not,  some  of  them,  to 
their  dying  day. 

The  Rebels  have  had  a  great  deal  to  say  since  the  War, 
of  Northern  bastiles,  but  never  a  word  about  Southern 
ones.  I  confess  to  a  much  longt^r  and  more  varied 
acquaintance  with  the  Southern  than  those  at  home  ; 
but  I  feel  confident  such  confinement  as  has  been  the 
rule  in  Dixie  would  not  be  tolerated  in  the  more  liberal 
and  enlightened  part  of  the  Republic. 

I  have  again  and  again  seen  Union  captives  come  out 
of  cells  in  Richmond  pallid  and  emaciated  as  consump- 
tive corpses— mere  ghosts  of  men— with  mouldy  clothes 
and  mildewed  hair,  burning  with  fever,  bent  with  rheu- 
matism, wasted  with  dysentery,  wlio  had  been  detained 
in  those  dungeons  with  a  fiendish  malignity,  until  their 
wretched  existence  held  by  a  single  thread. 

At  the  Castle,  too,  I  have  often  been  surprised  at  the 
tenacit}'  with  which  incarcerated  victims  clung  to  their 
frail  tenements  of  clay  in  the  cells  and  dungeons  that 
admitted  hardly  a  ray  of  light  ;  too  small  for  the  inmates 
either  to  lie  down,  or  sit,  or  stand  with  ease. 

The  air  of  those  dens  was  pestiferous.     They  reeked 


294  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

with  filth  and  vermm.  Tliey  would  have  delighted  the 
Doges  in  the  days  of  Venetian  crime  and  Venetian 
mysti^ij.  They  would  have  closed  forever  the  bab- 
bling lips  of  those  who  talk  of  our  generous  but  erring 
brothers — our  brave  but  wayward  sisters  of  the  South. 

Brave  and  generous  people  cannot  be  cruel,  and 
cruelty  was  an  inextinguishable  element  in  the  character 
of  most  of  the  Prison  authorities  of  Secessia.  They  were 
malevolent  without  pretext,  and  inhuman  without  pas- 
sion— an  anomaly  only  to  be  explained  by  the  enuncia- 
tion of  a  truth  I  have  long  recognized,  that  "Slavery  is 
barbarous,  and  makes  barbarians." 


CASTLE  THUNDER.  205 


CHAPTER  XL. 

CASTLE      THUNDER. 

• 
Contrast  between  the  Castle  and  Libby. — A  Southern  Bombastes. — Cruel  Treatment 
of  Prisoners. — Absurd  Charges  against  Lmocent  Men. — The  Prison  a  Reguiaj 
Bastile.— Energetic  and  Enterprising  Captives.— Difficulty  of  Obtaining  Sup- 
plies Sent  from  the  North.— Peculation  and  Plundering  of  the  Chivalry.— Their 
Begging  and  Trading  Proclivities. — Their  Ridiculous  Assumptions  and  E.xposure 
— Bohemian  Arrivals. — Comparative  Comfort  of  the  Correspondents. — Rebel 
Anxiety  to  Purchase  Treasury  Notes. — Campaigning  w'ith  the  Small-Pox. 

Castle  Thunder,  though  more  disagreeable  on  account 
of  the  character  of  its  occupants,  was  preferable,  on  the 
whole,  to  the  Libby,  because  there  was  less  tyranny  and 
contemptible  malice  there  than  at  the  jother  Richmond 
Prison.  At  the  Libby  we  could  relieve  the  tedium  of 
captivity  by  conversation  with  intelligent  and  well-bred 
officers  ;  but  at  the  Castle  we  were  forced  to  depend 
almost  entirely  on  our  own  societj^, — Mr.  S.  T.  Bulkle}', 
of  the  Herald^  had  been  added  to  the  Bohemians, — as  our 
fellow-prisoners  were  for  the  most  part  deserters,  thieves, 
swindlers,  and  loyal  but  ignorant  men,  far  more  interest- 
ing abstractly  than  socially. 

The  commandant  of  the  Castle,  a  regular  Bombastes 
Furioso,  happened  to  have  some  literary  pretensions — 
they  were  purely  pretensions — and  therefore  treated 
journalists  with  a  certain  degree  of  consideration.  "We 
had  privileges  others  had  not,  and  rather  congratulated 


296  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

ourselves  upon  our  transfer,  albeit  the  Richmond  author- 
ities had  designed  it  as  an  augmented  severity 

There,  as  I  have  said  elsewliere,  vre  first  began  to  put 
in  practice  our  ideas  of  escape,  and,  in  conjunction  with 
others,  to  dig  tunnels,  sound  guards,  enlist  negroes  in  our 
service,  and  make  arrangements,  in  the  event  of  our 
exodus,  for  concealment  in  the  city. 

At  the  Castle  we  witnes^d  a  great  deal  of  suffering  ; 
though,  from  the  causes  already  mentioned,  and  from  the 
fact  that  while  there  we  received  several  boxes  of  sup- 
plies from  the  North,  we  Bohemians  were  enabled  to 
make  ourselves  comparatively  comfortable.  We  were 
in  the  least  bad  quarters  in  the  Prison — it  was  formerly 
a  tobacco  warehouse  and  factory — and  had  gathered 
during  our  long  incarceration  a  number  of  such  articles 
as  are  usually  considered  necessary  to  housekeeping. 
Compared  to  those  about  us  we  were  the  purple-robed 
patricians  of  the  place.  Generally,  we  were  neither 
hungry  nor  ragged  ;  and  yet  every  day  we  saw  poor 
devils  so  cold  in  their  squalid  fragments  of  attire,  that 
they  could  hardly  hold  the  hard  corn-bread  doled  out 
to  them  to  their  pale  and  wasted  lips. 

No  Union  captive  ever  received  a  single  garment  or 
blanket  from  the  Rebels :  he  was  thrown  into  the  prison 
to  shift  for  himself  as  best  he  might.  If  he  froze,  they 
cared  not ;  if  he  perished,  they  had  onl}^  one  less  Yankee 
to  feed.  They  were  as  indifferent  to  the  sufferings  of  the 
prisoners  as  they  would  have  been  to  those  of  the  Feejee 
Islanders ;  and  they  made  no  pretense  of  sympathy  or 
commiseration. 

The  Southern  citizens  were  treated  quite  as  badly  as  the 


CASTLE   THUNDER.  297 

Yiiiikcos — even  -worse,  sometimes,  I  tlioiight— especially 
if  they  Avere  poor  and  friendless.  Old  men,  witli  -white 
hair  and  forms  bent  -with  years,  -were  incarcerated  there 
on  charge  of  liaving  given  food  to  their  sons,  -who  had 
deserted  from  the  Army.  Others  -were  snatched  from 
their  homes  on  vague  accusations  of  disloyalty  to  the 
so-called  Confederacy,  and  allowed  to  die  there  untried 
and  unkno-wn, 

A  large  number  of  persons  were  there  as  sj)ies — ■ 
when  the  Rebels  could  trump  up  no  other  charge 
against  a  man,  they  called*  liim  a  spy,  knowing  that 
would  hold  him  for  an  indefinite  period — who  had  not 
brains,  or  energy,  or  courage  enough  to  incur  the  sus- 
'picion  of  any  sane  person.  They  had  actually  thrown 
into  the  Castle  as  a  spy,  a  poor  lunatic  who  had  broken 
out  of  the  Jackson  (Mississippi)  Asylum  ;  and  when  I 
went  farther  South  he  Avas  still  in  captivity,  with  a  pros- 
pect of  ending  his  days  there. 

It  was  even  reported  among  tbe  traditions  of  the  Prison 
that  blind  men  had  been  there  as  spies,  and  dumb 
persons  on  charge  of  giving  information  to  the  enemy  ; 
but  for  those  reports  I  do  not  vouch.  Certainly,  how- 
ever, men  were  there  on  the  most  absurd  grounds,  and 
liktdy  to  remain  unless  they  had  money  or  friends. 

There  was  no  assumption  of  justice  in  the  Castle. 
Any  one  might  perish  within  its  walls  from  sheer 
neglect,  or,  once  confined  there,  all  trace  be  lost  of  him. 
It  was  indeed  a  Southern  Bastile.  Almost  everybody  in 
Riclimond  got  into  the  Castle  some  time  or  other,  prom- 
inent Rebel  officers,  men,  women,  and  children. 

That  it  was  employed  for  the  most  nefarious  purposes 


298  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

I  cannot  doubt.  During  tlie  reign  of  General  Winder 
and  liis  Baltimore  plug-ugly  Detectives,  the  grossest 
abuses  were  practiced.  Any  man  bearing  malice  against 
a  citizen  of  Richmond  had  only  to  trump  up  some  story, 
relate  it  to  a  Detective,  and,  presto,  the  unfortunate 
found  himself  in  the  Castle.  As  the  nature  of  his  offense 
"was  not  stated  even  to  him,  he  could  make  no  def(Mise, 
and  unless  some  good  Rebel  outside  interested  himself 
in  his  behalf,  his  prospects  of  long  imprisonment  were 
surprisingly  brilliant. 

An  old  occupant  of  the  Prison  assured  me  that  a 
Southern  officer,  having  become  enamored  of  a  citizen's 
wife,  breathed  some  secret  suspicion  of  her  husband's 
loyalty  to  Winder' s  ruffians,  and  instantly  the  ill-starred 
liege-lord  was  looking  at  Yirginia'  s  capital  through  iron 
gratings.  The  husband  removed,  the  libertine  officer 
prosecuted  his  suit  without  interruption  ;  and  when  the 
former  re-obtained  his  freedom,  his  wife  had  become 
openly  the  mistress  of  the  licentious  Major. 

Such  instances  were  not  uncommon.  The  odious  lettre 
de  cacliet  was  revived.  The  Castle  was  made  the  vehi- 
cle of  personal  malice  and  private  revenge. 

The  commandant,  Alexander,  was  accused  of  all  man- 
ner of  debaucheries  and  cruelties,  and  arraigned  before 
the  "Confederate"  Congress  on  the  gravest  charges. 
Nothing  came  of  them  beyond  the  removal  of  the  official, 
and  the  substitution  of  a  much  meaner  man  in  his  place, 
who,  subsequent  to  our  transfer  to  Salisbury,  would  not 
allow  any  of  the  prisoners  to  purchase  a  particle  of  food, 
or  even  a  copy  of  a  newspaper.  That  contemptible  piece 
of  malice  was  carried  into  execution  until  the  fall  of 


CASTLE  TIirXDER.  299 

Richmond,  and  the  inmates  of  the  Castle  suflfered  greatly 
from  th('  premeditated  cruelty. 

A  more  energetic  set  of  conspirators,  or  more  enter- 
prising planners  of  escape,  than  were  at  the  Castle,  I  have 
not  seen.  They  were  always  contriving  some  means  to 
get  out,  and  exhausting  ingenuity  to  that  end.  They 
dug  tunnels  enough  to  undermine  the  City,  and  worked 
subterraneously  like  moles.  Whoever  wanted  to  escape, 
brought  himself  into  spnpathy  with  the  Bohemians. 
We  were  generally  in  league  with  most  of  the  villains  in 
the  Prison,  for  they  were  more  industrious  and  auda- 
cious than  the  honest  fellows.  Yet  were  we  unsuccess- 
ful in  our  endeavors  for  many  months,  though  it  seemed 
our  activity  earlier  merited  the  reward  which  ultimately 
came. 

One  night,  some  ten  of  the  prisoners  essayed  to  escape 
by  digging  a  tunnel,  but  were  informed  upon  by  a  traitor 
in  their  midst,  and  their  attemj^t  frustrated.  They  were 
taken  before  the  Commandant,  the  Bobadil  I  have  men- 
tioned, who,  with  a  pompous  and  Jupiter-Tonans  air, 
thus  delivered  himself:  "There  is  no  use,  men,  of  trying 
to  get  out  of  here  :  it  is  absolutely  impossible  !  You  can 
make  no  movement ;  you  can  not  breathe  ;  you  can  not 
have  a  thotight  that  is  unknown  to  me.  You  might  as 
well  attempt  to  scale  Heaven  as  escape  from  the  Castle  ; 
so  you  had  better  behave  yourselves,  and  become  re- 
signed to  your  situation." 

The  very  next  night,  the  harangued  captives,  witli 
twelve  others,  got  out,  and  were  never  afterward  heard 
of  by  the  Rebels. 

During  the  latter  part  of  our  confinement  at  the  Castle, 

20 


300  FOUR  YEARS   TX   SECESSIA. 

as  I  have  said,  we  were  the  happy  recipients  of  several 
"boxes.  To  get  them  was  a  pure  piece  of  good  fortune ; 
for  the  chance  of  losing  any  thing  sent  from  tlie  North 
was  as  ten  to  one. 

The  officer  in  cliarge  of  the  Rebel  warehouse  liad 
known  us  at  Yicksburg,  and  was  unusually  obliging 
to  us.  As  soon  as  we  were  advised  by  letter  of  a  ship- 
ment of  supplies,  we  would  obtain  permission  to  visit  the 
warehouse  under  guard,  and  get  hold  of  our  box  before 
it  was  broken  open  or  stolen. 

If  a  package  remained  there  any  number  of  da}-s,  it 
was  pretty  certain  to  be  jiillaged.  Hardly  any  thing 
ever  came  through  unimpaired.  The  Union  officers 
could  obtain  very  little  without  bribery,  and  they  fre- 
quently offered  a  quarter  a*nd  even  half  the  contents  of 
a  box,  to  procure  the  remainder. 

'No  class  of  people  I  have  ever  met  are  so  susceptible 
to  a  bribe  as  the  Rebels.  From  the  pompous,  swagger- 
ing, pseudo  gentleman  down  to  the  lackey,  they  would 
all,  like  old  Trapbois,  in  the  "Fortunes  of  Kigel," 
do  almost  any  thing  for  a  consideration.  They  out- 
did the  stage  Yankees  in  their  fondness  for  barter- 
ing and  exchanging,  and  talked  of  swapj^ing  and  tra- 
ding you  out  of  whatever  you  had  or  wore,  in  a  man- 
ner I  had  not  known — often  as  I  have  been  in  New  Eng- 
land— to  exist,  save  in  histrionic  Solomon  Swops  and 
Solon  Shingles. 

They  even  play  the  mendicant  almost  as  well  as 
professional  lazzaroni.  You  can  not  have  any  thing  gay 
or  striking  on  your  person,  any  bright  color  or  shining 
metal,  but  some  fellow,  who  professes  to  be  a  gentle- 


CASTLE  THUNDER.  301 

man,  will  ask  you,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  give  it  to 
him. 

Poor  devils !  tliey  have  no  surplus  of  attire  or  adorn- 
ment; but  one  Tvould  imagine,  with  all  their  pretension, 
they  might,  during  the  present  century,  have  learned 
at  least  the  first  lesson  in  good-breeding. 

They  are  shams  in  manners,  as  they  are  in  chivalry, 
hospitality,  culture,  and  every  thing  else.  They  are 
brave,  of  course,  because  they  are  Americans ;  but  they 
must  even  pretend  a  recklessness  of  life  and  a  passion 
for  death  that  is  not  natural  to  humanity,  and  assuredly- 
not  to  them  more  than  to  any  other  part  of  the  great 
family. 

With  all  their  braggadocio  and  bombast  about  perish- 
ing in  the  last  ditch,  and  dying  to  the  last  man,  woman, 
and  child,  they  know  when  they  are  whipped,  as  thor- 
ouglil}^  and  quickly  as  any  other  people,  and  have  no 
more  natural  appetite  for  coffins  and  grave^^ards  than  the 
rest  of  mankind. 

Of  course  the  leaders  will  fight  while  they  can  keep 
a  foiTQidable  army  in  the  field  ;  and  when  they  can  not, 
they  will  submit  quietly,  or  run  away. 

They  have  been  prating  since  the  War  began,  as  if,  in 
the  event  of  their  subju^-ation,  which  is  as  certain  to  take 
place  as  the  sea  to  ebb,  or  buds  to  bloom,  the}^  would 
imitate  their  more  generous  and  chivalrous  brothers  the 
Japanese,  and  perform  a  general  hari-kari  upon  them- 
selves. They  won  t  do  any  thing  of  the  sort :  tliey  can't 
be  induced  to  do  it.  I  wish  they  could.  If  they  can 
endure  the  ripping  up,  I  fancy  we  can  ;  and  as  the  mat- 
ter-of-fact individual  told  the  fond  mamma,  who  informed 


303  FOUPw  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Mm  that  lier  daughter  was  of  a  very  gushing  nature: 
*'Let  her  gush,  mami !"  we  can  say,  with  a  very  com- 
mendable degree  of  composure,  when  the  insurgent 
leaders  adopt  seK-dissection  as  a  business:  "You  never 
had  any  bowels  of  compassion  to  spare,  gentlemen ;  but 
if  you  are  so  minded,  let  them  rip." 

Since  the  above  was  written,  Richmond  has  fallen, 
and  Lee's  grand  ami}^,  which  was  the  main-stay  of  the 
Eebellion,  has  crumbled  to  pieces.  Therefore  what  I 
have  said  may  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  prediction. 
The  Rebels  now  do  know  they  are  whipped,  and  Jef- 
ferson Davis,  his  Cabinet,  and  the  principal  leaders  have 
run  away — are  at  this  moment  fugitives  in  the  land. 

The  power  of  the  great  Insurrection  is  broken.  The 
cause  of  the  Secessionists  is  hopelessly  lost,  and  yet  we 
hear  of  no  general  hari-kari ;  no  gratuitous  dying  of 
women  and  cliildren  ;  no  perishing  in  the  last  ditch. 

It  is  extremely  difficult  to  write  any  thing  about  the 
War,  while  events  are  developing  so  rapidly  as  they 
have  been  in  the  last  few  weeks.  The  prophecy  of  to- 
day becomes  the  fact  of  to-morrow.  The  speculation 
of  one  hour  passes  into  history  the  next. 

!N'o  one  can  doubt  at  present,  however  much  he  may 
sympathize  with  the  South,  that  the  War,  so  far  as  any 
largeness  of  operations  is  concerned,  is  practically  over ; 
that  the  giant  of  Treason  has  been  laid  low.  He  may 
rave  and  wrestle  in  his  chains  ;  he  may  struggle  to  rise, 
and  may  yet  do  us  some  injury,  but  he  has  ceased  to  be 
formidable  :  his  power  for  permanent  evil  is  forever  and 
forever  gone. 

To  return  from  great  to  small  things,  let  me  go  back 


CASTLE  THUNDER.  303 

to  the  Castle,  wliicli  is  uow  a  prison  for  the  enemy,  and 
not  for  the  loyal  who  sufiered  there  so  long  ;  whose  suf- 
ferings are  more  than  atoned  for  by  the  glory  of  the 
Present ;  the  triumph  of  the  Right ;  the  establishment, 
after  four  years  of  sanguinary  strife,  of  the  integrity  of 
the  Republic,  and  the  restoration  of  the  Nation  beyond 
the  power  of  future  harm. 

During  the  month  of  November,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
two  more  Bohemians  were  added  to  our  triad,  Mr.  L.  A. 
Hendrick  and  Mr.  George  H.  Hart,  of  the  New  York 
Herald.  They  had  been  captured  by  Colonel  Mosby, 
while  acting  as  safeguards  at  the  house  of  a  Virginia 
lad}',  who  stated  the  circumstances,  and  begged  that 
they  be  released,  as  justice  and  honor  demanded.  Mosby 
said  he  was  compelled  to  send  them  to  Richmond,  but 
assured  the  lady  they  would  not  Ibe  detained.  They 
were  kept  there  for  three  months,  and  obtained  their 
liberty  at  last  only  by  securing  the  services  of  able 
lawyers,  and  by  the  fact  that  they  did  not  belong  to  the 
Trihune. 

Early  in  January,  1864,  it  was  proposed  by  Commis- 
sioner Ould  to  exchange  for  them  two  attaches  of  the 
Richmond  Enquirer,  who  had  been  caj)tured  in  some 
piratical  expedition  on  the  Chesapeake,  and  who  had  no 
right  to  claim  the  treatment  of  Correspondents  or  journal- 
ists. Ould  sent  Colonel  Tyler,  the  proprietor  of  The 
Enquirer  J  to  them  to  arrange  the  exchange — ignoring 
Tlie  Tribune  writers  altogether — informing  them  if  the 
Richmond  journalists  were  not  released  from  ii'ons,  in 
which  he  said  they  had  been  put — as  they  deserved  to 
be,  I  presume — that  the  Southern  authorities  would  be 


304  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

compelled  to  place  two  of  the  five  Correspondents  in  the 
Castle  in  a  similar  position.  Mr.  Richardson  and  I 
laughed  at  the  one-sided  arrangement,  knowing  tliat  if 
any  pair  were  to  be  jDut  in  irons,  it  would  in  all  proba- 
bility  be  ourselves,  altliough  no  opportunity  was  given 
Tis  for  freedom.  The  irons  proved  a  mere  tlireat,  or  at 
least  there  was  no  excuse  for  tlieir  employment,  as  Hart 
and  Ilendrick  were  paroled,  and  sent  North  to  obtain  the 
release  of  the  Richmond  scribes,  which  they  did,  al- 
though they  had  then  been  prisoners  only  about  one- 
third  the  time  that  Tlie  Tribune  correspondents  had. 

Mr.  S.  T.  Bulkley,  also  of  the  Herald^  was  soon  after 
released  :  proving  conclusively,  were  any  proof  needed, 
that  the  Richmond  officials  had  no  particular  animosity 
against  War  Correspondents,  so  long  as  they  were  not 
nKHnbers  of  Horace  Greeley' s  staff. 

The  five  Bohemians,  while  together,  were  in  the  same 
mess,  of  course,  and,  as  they  were  rather  congenial,  as- 
sisted each  other  not  a  little  in  relieving  the  tedium  of 
prison  life.  With  the  boxes  and  tlie  books  we  had  re- 
ceived from  the  North,  we  continued  to  live  with  com- 
parative comfort.  The  days  of  our  cooking  and  ])laying 
scullion  had  passed  ;  we  had  assistants  there  to  perfoim 
menial  offices  ;  and,  consequently,  we  had  ample  leisure 
for  reading  and  indulging  in  our  favorite  amusement  of 
whist,  in  which,  from  long  practice,  we  attained  consider- 
able skill. 

The  Castle  was  lighted  with  gas,  which  was  burned  all 
night  when  we  did  not  turn  it  off  to  hide  some  attempt  to 
escape — so  that  we  could  sit  up  as  late  as  we  chose.  We 
had  nocturnal  lunches  from  oii.r  bountiful  supplies,  and 


CASTLE   THUNDER.  305 

often  sat  over  coffee,  and  sardines  and  preserves,  smoking 
our  cigars,  until  the  sentinels  beneath  the  grated  windows 
called  the  hours  of  two  and  three  in  the  morning. 

During  no  period  that  we  were  in  captivity,  did  we  of 
The  Tribune  subsist  beyond  a  few  days  at  a  time  on  the 
prison  rations.  Had  we  been  compelled  to  do  so,  we 
would  have  been  occux>ying  long  since  a  few  feet  of  the 
sacred  soil  of  Virginia  or  Xorth  Carolina.  We  wo\ild  not 
have  starved  to  death  positively,  perhaps  ;  but  uur  sys- 
tems would  have  so  run  down  on  the  meager  and  un- 
wholesome diet  that  we  would  have  fallen  ill,  and  never 
have  gained  strength  sufficient  for  restoration. 

Having  no  expectation  of  release  save  through  our  own 
agency— and  that  was  highly  improbable— we  always 
looked  ahead,  and  prepared  for  the  coming  months.  We 
managed  almost  always  to  keep  in  funds,  receiving  Treas- 
ury ISTotes  secretly  in  cans  of  preserves,  butter,  and  books 
sent  us  in  our  boxes.  We  experienced  no  difficulty  in  ex- 
changing the  jS'ational  currency  for  Rebel  scrip,  as  there  was 
always  an  active  demand  for  the  fonner  in  all  the  prisons  to 
which  we  were  consigned,  from  Yicksburg  to  Salisbury,  at 
rates  varying  from  two  to  fifteen  of  their  stuff  for  one  of  our 
money.  The  Rebel  officers  were  ever  anxious  to  buy,  and 
when  they  did  not  do  so  openly,  they  employed  agents  to 
purchase  th(3  Yankee  issues  for  them. 

I  remember  an  Israelite  who  had  been  sent  to  the  Castle 
from  ^Mobile  for  receiving  Treasury  Notes  for  some  gar- 
ment ;  and  no  sooner  had  he  gotten  inside  of  the  Prison 
than  a  young  man  employed  there  entered  the  Citizens' 
Room,  and  ask(^d  in  a  loud  tone  who  had  any  greenbacks 
to  seU.    The  Hebrew  opened  his  eyes  in  astonislmient,  and 


306  FOUR  YEARS   IX  SECESSIA. 

declared  it  "  vash  a  tarn  pretty  pisliness  to  put  a  slientle- 
mans  in  sucli  a  tarn  liole  as  dat  for  doing  vat  de  tarn  Reb- 
els vash  doing  demselves. ' '  The  clothes-dealer' s  enuncia- 
tion was  somewhat  at  fault ;  but  no  one  could  controvert 
his  logic. 

At  the  Castle  we  made  our  first  acquaintance  in  the 
South  with  the  small-pox.  We  had  a  great  many  cases 
in  the  Prison — a  number  in  the  room  Avhere  we  were  con- 
fined. In  fact,  we  walked,  ate,  and  slept  with  it  for  sev- 
eral months,  there  as  well  as  in  Salisbur}',  without 
contracting  the  disease.  Persons  suffering  from  the 
small-pox  were  permitted  to  lie  in  our  quarters  until  they 
had  broken  out ;  but  we  had  no  fear  of  it ; — why  should 
a  man  in  a  Rebel  prison  fear  any  thing  ? — and  to  that,  per- 
chance, may  be  attributed  our  escape  from  infection.  We 
even  administered  to  tliosa  who  had  been  seized,  bent 
over  them,  and  inhaled  their  Areath  and  the  contagion 
supposed  to  emanate  from  the  body ;  3'et  we  passed  through 
two  long  campaigns  with  the  obnoxious  ailment  entirely 
unscathed. 

There  was  a  great  variety  of  sickness  at  the  Castle  du- 
ring our  five  months'  incarceration,  and  a  number  of  our 
fellow-prisoners  went  to  the  hospital  and  died  ;  bnt  I  al- 
ways contrived  to  keep  out  of  the  Rebel  lazar-houses,  in 
the  capacity  of  patient,  at  least ;  find  with  the  exception 
of  several  desperate  flirtations  with  the  fever,  I  enjoj^ed 
far  better  health  than  I  had  any  reason  to  expect.  Indeed, 
I  felt  vexed  at  mj'self  sometimes  that  I  did  preserve  such 
an  enviable  hygienic  position ;  believing  no  gentleman 
had  any  right  to  live  in  a  Southern  prison  more  than  a 
month,  at  the  furthest. 


EXECUTION  OF  A  LOYAL  TENNESSEAN.  307 


CHxiPTER  XLI. 

EXECUTION  OF  A  LOYAL  TENNESSEAN. 

Brief  Account  of  his  Antecedents. — His  Attachment  to  the  Union  Cause. — His 
BetravaL — His  Cruel  Treatment  in  Pri.son. — A  Second  Judas. — Conviction  on 
False  Evidence. — His  "Wretched  Condition. — The  Closing  Scene. — An  Inhuman 
Detective. — Revolting  Spectacle  at  the  Gallows. 

Of  tlie  many  militaiy  murders  committed  in  tlie  South 
since  the  inception  of  the  AYar,  none  have  "been  more 
cruel  and  revolting  than  the  hanging  of  Captain  Deaton, 
of  East  Tennessee,  in  the  prison-yard  of  Castle  Thunder, 
Richmond,  Virginia,  during  the  winter  of  1864. 

Deaton  vras  a  strong  Union  man  in  that  most  loyal  part 
of  our  country,  and  had  been  very  efficient  in  resisting 
the  encroachments  of  the  Secessionists  from  the  period  of 
the  earliest  troubles.  He  was  a  well-built,  finely-propor- 
tioned, muscular  fellow,  in  the  prime  of  life  and  full  flush 
of  liealth,  intelligent,  courageous,  determined  ;  and,  as 
may  be  supposed,  a  most  annoying  and  dangerous  per- 
sonage for  the  Rebels  to  deal  with. 

As  tlie  struggle  continued,  the  intensity  of  feeling  in- 
creased in  Tennessee,  and  finally  Deaton  was  compelled 
to  leave  his  home — in  Knox  County,  I  believe — and  take 
to  the  bush,  as  it  is  technically  termed  in  the  South.  The 
loyalists  were  outnumbered  by  the  regular  forces  sent 
into  their  neighborhood,  and  were  coerced  to  adopt 
guerrilla  warfare  as  a  means  of  protection. 


308  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Deaton,  seeing  tlie  change  in  the  situation,  felt  that 
organization  was  necessary,  and  soon  raised  a  company 
of  loyal  Tennesseans,'Avliora  he  was  chosen  to  command- 
With  these  he  did  effective  service,  and  he  soon  gained  a 
name  and  fame  for  his  daring  and  exploits.  He  was 
desirous  of  admission  into  the  regular  army,  hut  whether 
he  succeeded  in  his  piu-pose,  I  am  unaware. 

The  Rebels  hat(xl  him  with  exceeding  hatred,  and,  it  is 
stated,  set  a  price  upon  his  head.  They  made  every  effort 
to  ensnare  him,  hut  he  was  too  wily  for  them.  He  had 
numerous  hair-breadth  escapes ;  was  fired  upon  again  and 
again  ;  his  clothes  pierced  with  bullets ;  and  yet  he  was 
unharmed.  He  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life  ;  but  he 
had  his  unguarded  moments,  as  all  men  have,  and  fell  into 
a  trap  the  enemy  had  prepared  for  him. 

Like  most  of  the  middle  and  poorer  classes  of  the  South, 
Deaton  had  strong  home  attachments,  and  for  a  number 
of  months  he  had  been  unable  to  hear  directly  from  his 
wife  and  children,  whom  he  most  tenderly  loved.  His 
foes  were  aware  of  that,  and  sent  him  word  by  a  person 
whom  he  deemed  trustworthy,  that  if  he  would  call  at  a 
certain  place  on  an  appointed  night,  he  would  obtain  news 
of  his  family. 

Deaton  went ;  and  while  in  the  house,  which  was  sur- 
rounded by  armed  men,  he  was  surprised  before  he  could 
use  his  weapons  ;  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  thrown  into 
a  wretched  negro-pen.  He  was  charged  with  all  the 
crimes  in  the  calendar,  the  least  of  which  were  arson, 
rape,  and  murder.  But  as  it  was  not  easy  to  prove  liim 
a  person  with  whom  Caligida  would  have  been  a  saint, 
he  was  accused  of  being  a  spy,  and  kept  in  a  loathsome 


EXECUTION   OF  A  LOYAL  TENNESSEAN.  309 

dungeon  for  four  or  five  months.  His  health  gave  way ; 
his-  constitution  was  broken ;  his  nervous  system  was 
sliattered,  and  he  became  a  TVTeck  of  himself.  The  Rebels 
were  always  threatening  him  with  execution,  and  for 
many  Aveeks  he  lived  in  hourly  expectation  of  being  put 
to  death.  No  one  was  admitted  to  see  him,  and  he  fell 
into  a  condition  of  mental  imbecility.  About  that  time  he 
was  transferred  to  Richmond,  where  it  was  thouglit  he 
miglit  be  treated  with  some  humanity.  Strange  mistake ! 
Humanity  is  not  indigenous  to  the  Rebel  capital.  There 
the  meanest,  and  vilest,  and  most  tyrannical  of  the  insur- 
gents can  be  ever  found. 

At  Richmond  he  was  thrown  into  the  condemned  cell 
of  Castle  Thunder ;  a  cold,  dark,  noisome,  filthy  hole, 
next  to  the  room  in  which  my  confrere  and  myself  were 
confined,  and  which  we  never  passed  without  closing  our 
nostrils  with  our  fingers,  in  lieu  of  those  perfumed  hand- 
kerchiefs that  ceased  to  be  the  mode  with  us  soon  after 
our  capture. 

Up  to  that  period  nothing  had  been  proved  against 
Deaton  ;  but  he  there  unfortunately  made  a  confidant  of 
a  villain,  formerly  a  Lieutenant  in  the  old  United  States 
service,  who  had  tried  to  be  a  Secessionist,  but  by  his 
vacillations  had  been  suspected  and  consigned  to  the 
Castle.  The  ex-Lieutenant  betrayed  him  of  course.  The 
morning  after  he  heard  Beaton's  story,  he  asked  for  an 
interview  with  the  Commandant  of  the  Prison  ;  and  soon 
after  the  Captain  was  loaded  with  irons,  and  treated 
more  cruelly  th^n  ever. 

A  few  days  subsequent  he  was  tried  by  Court-Martial, 
and  convicted  of  being  a  spy  upon  what  was  declared  to 


310  FOUPw  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

he  false  evidence.  Deaton  was  then  returned  to  his  cell ; 
and  I  have  rarely  witnessed  a  more  melancholy  spectacle. 
Haggard,  emaciated,  ragged,  almost  barefooted,  bent  as 
with  a  crushing  weight,  a  strange  light  in  his  sunken  eye, 
he  seemed  tlien  more  dead  tlian  alive. 

We  obtained  for  him  two  or  three  times  the  privilege 
of  coming  into  our  room,  while  the  cell  was  being  relieved 
of  a  portion  of  its  filth,  to  warm  by  a  poor  stove  his  frozen 
feet.  AVe  gave  him  a  seat ;  he  took  it  with  a  vacant  stare, 
and  crouched  over  the  fire,  but  spoke  no  word  in  answer 
to  the  tender  pity  we  expressed  for  him.  His  mind  wan- 
dered :  his  spirit  was  broken :  long  and  persistent  bar- 
barity had  killed  in  him  the  gallant  and  noble  Man. 

The  fatal  Friday  came  on  which  poor  Deaton  was  to  be 
executed.  Certainly  it  was  a  hangman's  day — dreary, 
lowering,  bitter  cold.  The  s«aifold  was  erected  in  the 
yard  adjoining  the  Prison  oii  the  west  side  ;  and  into  the 
inclosure  the  unfortunate  victim  was  taken  about  the 
hour  of  noon.  He  was  too  weak  to  walk  without  sup- 
port ;  and  he  was  assisted  down  the  stairs  to  the  ground 
floor.  ^\.n  effort  had  been  made  to  improve  his  external 
appearance ;  but  his  better  clothes  only  made  him  seem 
more  wretched.  Though  the  thennometer  was  little 
above  zero,  the  perspiration  stood  in  drops  upon  the  con- 
demned man' s  brow,  and  a  spot  of  crimson  glowed  in  his 
ghastly  cheek.  He  looked  up  at  the  scaffold  with  a 
leaden  gaze,  and  when  asked  some  question  by  the  ai- 
taclies  of  the  Castle  at  his  side,  made  an  incoherent  reply, 
a  muttered  mystery. 

Detective  Caphart — a  gray-haired  villain  of  sixty,  who 
has  been  known  to  pay  a  large  price  for  the  privilege  of 


EXECUTION  OF  A  LOYAL  TENNESSEAN.  311 

hanging  a  man,  and  wlio  boasts  lio  has  assisted  at  the 
death  of  all  the  persons  executed  in  Richmond  for  many 
years— was  very  active  on  the  occasion,  and  in  the  best 
of  spirits.  Indeed,  like  the  laughing  hangman  of  Louis 
XI.,  he  was  only  happy  at  such  a  time.  He  pulled  the 
Captain  rudely  about ;  cursed  him  for  his  dullness  ;  and 
vented  spleen  on  an  unfortunate  who  had  but  a  few 
minutes  to  live.  Capharf  and  Warden  Wiley  hurried 
through  the  dreadful  affair  as  if  it  were  any  ordinary  en- 
gagement, and  the  scoundrel  Detective  glowered  on  the 
prisoners,  who  had  been  invited  to  ^vitness  the  execution, 
as  if  he  regretted  very  much  tliat  he  could  not  perform 
the  same  amiable  ofRce  for  them. 

The  estunable  twain  haying  borne  Deaton  to  the  scaf- 
fold, released  their  hold  of  him,  and  told  Mm  to  stand  up. 
They  then  descended,  and  ordered  an  underling  to  puU  the 
drop.  The  fellow  had  his  hand  upon  the  rope,  when  the 
Captain  looked  around  with  a  ghastly,  half-idiotic  smile, 
muttered  something,  and  sat  down  on  the  scaffold.  Old 
Caphart  flew  up  the  scaffold  again  ;  and  shaking  Deaton 
^nth  great  fury,  whUe  his  cracked  and  wiry  voice  poured 

forth  curses  upon  the  "d d  Yankee  son  of  a ," 

called  Wiley  again  to  his  assistance. 

Once  more  Deaton  was  held  up;  and  that  time  he 
turned  upon  them,  and  smiled  with  a  soft,  sweet  expres- 
sion that  transfigured  his  whole  face.  AU  the  old,  unset- 
tled look  fled.  Courage,  love,  pity,  benison  came  back 
to  him.  He  tried  to  nerve  himself  to  stand.  The  officers 
released  him— as  he  seemed  to  desire.  He  staggered,  and 
he  would  have  fallen.  The  momentary  inspiration  passed : 
his  head  drooped :  a  half  groan,  a  half  sigh  escaped  him. 


312  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

"  Hurry,  liuny  !"  cried  out  Caphart,  in  his  harsh,  "broken 

tones ;  "the  d d  Yankee  -vdll  die  in  our  arms  if  you 

don't  hang  him  quick  !" 

Tlie  drop  fell,  and  the  loyal  Tennessean  was  swaying 
in  the  air,  struggling  with  death,  and  struggling  liai'd. 

So  worn  and  wasted  was  he,  that  the  tension  of  the 
rope  was  slight.  For  nearly  ten  minutes  the  victim 
writhed  and  t"\visted  and  turned. 

It  seemed  as  if  he  would  never  die.  The  few  prisoners 
who  had  gone  down  to  witness  the  tragedy  were  shocked ; 
and  most  of  them  hurried  away. 

Caphart  alone  enjoyed  it.  He  grinned  like  a  fiend,  and 
was  evidently  happy  in  his  Avay. 

At  last  the  struggles  ceased.  The  sufferings  of  the 
loyal  martyr  were  over. 

The  horror  of  the  scene  impressed  every  one,  save  the 
gray-haired  ruffian ;  and  more  than  one  of  the  Rebel 
officers  shuddered  and  turned  pale. 

The  bleak  wind  blew  iijoon  the  scaffold,  and  moved  the 
strangled  corpse. 

A  few  snow-flakes  fell  through  the  frbsty  atmosphere, 
like  scattered  rose-leaves  on  a  grave. 

The  sun  broke  through  the  heavy  clouds,  and  a  little 
light  streamed  down,  as  if  the  path  were  opened,  and  they 
had  parted  to  let  a  passing  siDirit  in. 


SALISBURY   PENITENTIAPwY.  313 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

SALISBURY    PENITENTIARY, 

Our  RemoTal  from  Richmond  to  Salisbury.— Cliaracter  of  our  Companions.— 
Troubles  of  Transportation.— Strange  Scene  and  Sensation  at  Petersburg.— 
Arrival  at  tl>e  North  Carolina  Prison.— Interior  View  of  our  Quarters.— A 
Heavy  Blow  for  my  Confrere.— The  Horrors  of  Southern  Captivity.— DiiBculty 
of  their  Realization. 

On  tlie  2d  of  February,  The  Tribune  correspondents 
were  ordered  from  Richmond  to  Salisbury,  and  long  be- 
fore dawn  we  were  standing  in  Carey  Street,  in  the  midst 
of  seventy  or  eighty  Rebel  deserters  and  desperadoes 
wearing  balls  and  chains.  We  were  the  only  ATorthern- 
ers  in  the  Southern  shipment,  and,  I  might  say,  the  only 
persons,  save  a  few  straggling  Tennessee  and  Virginia 
Unionists,  who  .would  not  have  picked  their  father's 
pocket,  or  sold  their  grandmother,  for  a  sufficient  pecu- 
niary inducement. 

We  were  not  very  well  attired,  and  our  nine  months  of 
captivity  had  not  contributed  to  the  elegance  of  our  ap- 
pearance ;  but,  compared  to  those  about  us,  we  must  have 
seemed  like  robes  of  velvet  upon  hovel  walls.  We  had 
a  great  deal  of  baggage  in  the  shape  of  blankets,  a  box  of 
provisions  and  cooking  utensils,  two  old  valises  that  we 
had  purchased  in  prison  ;  and  even  after  distributing  our 
household  goods  to  some  of  our  retainers,  we  ^ere  fairly 
overburdened  with  our  possessions.     We  very  frequently 


314  FOUR  TEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

asked  ourselves  the  question  Mrs.  Wragge  so  patlieti- 
cally  put  to  lierself :  "  What  shall  we  do  with  our  things  ?" 
and  found  no  small  difficulty  in  practically  answering  the 
query.  The  large  box  fell  to  our  individual  management. 
It  was  very  heavy,  and  the  single  pole,  run  through  the 
rope  handles,  by  which  we  carried  it,  turned  and  twisted 
in  our  hands  until  they  were  blistered,  and  our  muscles 
were  sore  with  the  weight  we  bore  ;  having  been  com- 
pelled to  carry  it  over  a  mile  at  Petersburg,  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  at  Weldon,  and  three  quarters  of  a  mile  at  Salis- 
bury. 

At  Petersburg  we  stood  for  an  hour  and  a  half  in  one 
of  the  most  public  streets,  near  the  railway  depot,  subject 
to  the  gaze  and  comment  of  the  masculine  and  feminine 
passers-by.  Rare  company  was  that  for  a  gentleman.  I 
should  have  blushed  had  I  not  been  proud — proud  to  be 
hated  by  the  Rebels — proud  that  I  hated  them  as  well. 

As  I  stood  there,  I  saw  well-dressed  men  and  women 
gaze  at  that  ragged  crew  with  ill-concealed  contempt  and 
even  disgust — I  wonder  if  they  were  more  disgusted  than 
I  was — and  heard  them  utter  denunciations  upon  ' '  those 
scoundrels"  that  were  just  enough  in  the  main. 

Strange  thoughts  stole  through  my  mind  in  that  public 
thoroughfare.  The  situation  was  novel,  and  the  sensa- 
tion somewhat  so.  I  had  never  fancied  before  the  War 
that  I  should  be  a  show  and  a  spectacle  in  an  American 
city — one  of  a  crowd  of  ruffians  and  villains,  from  whom 
I  could  not  be  discriminated,  passing  from  one  prison  to 
another — to  be  leered  at  by  the  vulgar  and  miscompre- 
hended by  my  peers. 

Neither  my  confrere  nor  myself  felt  humbled  even 


SALISBURY  PENITENTIARY.  315 

there,  swept  away  as  our  individuality  was  in  that  un- 
wholesome mass  of  humanity.  The  earnest  conviction  of 
wliat  we  were,  elevated  us  above  our  surroundings  and 
beyond  the  Present.  We  felt  self-possessed,  haughty, 
fearless.  The  blood  burned  in  our  cheek  ;  but  it  was  the 
kindling  of  a  defiant  soul ;  and  if  any  close  observer,  any 
studier  of  countenance,  had  been  there,  he  would  have 
descried  through  the  marble  of  the  statue  the  suppressed 
passion  of  the  sculptor,  the  repose  of  Art  with  the  scorn 
of  the  Real. 

The  Richmond  authorities  had  very  kindly  furnished: 
lis  with  a  sjoecial  detective  to  see  that  we  did  not  escape.. 
We  had  no  idea  of  doing  so  on  the  way,  having  been  led' 
to  believe  Salisbury  the  best  base  of  operations  we  coulfi 
find.  The  detective  proved  to  be  a  Unionist>*and  we  told 
him  frankly  we  had  no  intention  of  leaving  him,  so  that 
he  need  give  himself  no  trouble  on  the  subject.  We  could 
have  gotten  away  a  number  of  times  en  route  to  Salis- 
bury, and  we  regretted  afterwards  we  had  not  done  so  on. 
principle. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  we  reached  Salis- 
bury, and,  entering  the  inclosure  of  the  Penitentiary,  were 
wannly  greeted  by  prisoners  we  had  known  at  the  Cas- 
tle, and  officers,  held  like  ourselves  as  hostages,  whose^ 
acquaintance  we  had  made  at  the  Libby.  At  the  Peni- 
tentiary there  were  Rebel  convicts,  Northern  deserters, 
hostages,  Southern  Union  men,  and  all  persons  that  the 
enemy  designed  to  hold  for  a  long  time.  There  were  then 
but  six  or  seven  hundred  inmates  of  the  place,  which  we 
preferred  either  to  the  Castle  or  Libby,  because  we  had 
the  privilege  of  the  yard,  and  had  a  daily  opportunity  to 


316  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

breathe  tlie  external  atmosphere,  and  behold  the  over- 
arching sky. 

The  quarters  in  which  we  were  confined  were  very 
undesirable,  being  about  ninety  by  forty  feet,  with 
barred  windows,  dirty  floor,  partially  occupied  by  rude 
bunks,  and  two  broken  stoves  that  gave  out  no  heat,  but 
a  perpetual  smoke  of  green  pine-wood  that  made  the 
atmosphere  blue,  and  caused  us  to  weep  as  though  we 
had  lost  the  dearest  mistress  of  our  soul. 

There,  with  rags  and  vermin,  filth  and  odors,  as  little 
Sabean  as  possible,  we  passed  the  long,  cold,  desolate 
nights,  shivering  in  our  light  blankets,  and  striving,  for 
many  a  dreary  hour,  in  vain  to  sleep.  What  a  dismal 
den  it  was ! 

Trophonftis'  famous  cave,  as  described  by  Pausanias, 
would  not  have  more  deeply  shadowed  the  soul  of  its 
occupant.  What  ages  I  seem  to  have  passed  there  :  what 
weary,  pangful,  endless  nights  ! 

How  cruelly  Morpheus  deceived  me  ;  how  he  painted 
to  my  mental  eye  the  peace  and  pleasantness  of  scenes  far 
away  !  How  oft  I  awoke  from  dreams  of  mental  magni- 
ficence to  the  cold,  staring,  stony  walls  of  that  wretched 
abode  !  How  frequently  I  was  aroused  from  the  fancied 
breath  of  roses,  and  the  enchanting  strain  of  unseen  in- 
struments, and  the  soft-sweet  pressure  of  lips  of  balm  and 
beauty,  by  the  bite  of  insects  and  the  tramp  of  some  unfor- 
tunate tatterdemalion  upon  my  fatigued  form,  steeped  in 
half-voluptuous,  half-spiritual  imaginings,  and  surren- 
dered quite  to  precious  oblivion  of  its  surroundings  ! 

If  any  place  more  than  another  is  the  antipodes  of 
.Poetry,  that  surely  was  it. 


SALISBURY   PENITENTIARY.  317 

I  see  it  now,  so  barren,  bleak,  and  squalid,  so  associated 
with  the  meanest  bondage  and  the  most  repulsive  objects  ; 
and  I  wonder  any  one  can  have  lived  there,  and  preserved 
the  least  sense  of  Beauty. 

Rare  old  den  of  disorder,  disgustful ness,  and  deformity, 
3^our  form  glowers  through  time  and  distance  like  a  vision 
of  Hades  upon  the  distempered  mind  of  some  early  Father 
of  the  superstitious  Church  ! 

I  often  wished  I  could  obtain  a  photograph  of  that 
room,  for  I  can  give  no  idea  of  its  repulsiveness  and 
superlative  squalor.  A  gentleman  seemed  more  out  of 
place  there  than  the  Angel  Gabriel  would  in  a  prize-ring, 
or  the  Pope  of  E-ome  at  a  Five  Points  dance-house. 

There  it  was  my  fellow-journalist,  Mr.  Richardson, 
first  heard  of  the  sudden  and  altogether  une:S:pected  death 
of  his  ^vife. 

Amid  all  that  meanness  and  coarseness  and  desola- 
tion, the  heavy  blow  fell  upon,  and  almost  crushed  him. 
Heavens !  what  a  place  to  be  informed  of  such  a  grief ;  of 
the  loss  of  the  nearest  and  dearest  of  relations ;  of  one 
whose  life  was  full  of  beauty  and  of  promise  !  His  future 
had  been  all  interwoven  with  hers  ;  and  when  cruel  For- 
tune severed  two  such  hearts,  in  his  there  must  have 
seemed  no  bright  to-morrows.  ^ 

Those  quarters  at  Salisbury  and  their  associations,  will 
my  bereaved  friend  ever  forget  them  ?     Can  I  even  ? 

The  antique  junk-shop — such  it  seemed — was  filled 
with  odors  of  the  most  obnoxious  kind,  especially  at 
night,  from  additional  agencies  that  politeness  will  not 
peiTuit  me  to  name.  Vermin  swarmed  everywhere  ;  they 
tortured  us  while  we  tried  to  sleep  on  our  coarse  blan- 


318  FOUR  YEARS  IN"  SECESSIA. 

kets,  and  kept  us  in  torment  when  awake.  Not  a  square 
mile  of  Secessia  seemed  free  from  them. 

No  light  of  any  kind  was  furnished  us ;  and  there  we 
sat,  night  after  night,  in  the  tliick  darkness,  inhaling  the 
foul  vapors  and  the  acrid  smoke,  longing  for  the  morning, 
when  we  could  again  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  beam- 
ing sky. 

Think  of  that  death-life  month  after  month !  Think 
of  men  of  delicate  organization,  accustomed  to  ease  and 
luxur}",  of  fine  taste,  and  a  passionate  love  of  the  Beauti- 
ful, without  a  word  of  sympathy  or  a  whisper  of  hope, 
wearing  their  daj^s  out  amid  such  scenes ! 

Not  a  pleasant  sound,  nor  a  sweet  odor,  nor  a  vision  of 
fairness  ever  reached  them.  Tliey  were  buried  as  com- 
pletely as  if  they  lay  beneath  the  ruins  of  Pompeii  or 
Herculaneum.  Tliey  breathed  mechanically,  but  were 
shut  out  from  all  that  renders  existence  endurable. 

Every  sense  was  shocked  perpetuallj-,  and  yet  the 
heart,  by  a  strange  inconsistency,  kept  up  its  throbs,  and 
preserved  the  physical  being  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
wretched  captives,  who,  no  doubt,  often  prayed  to  die. 

Few  persons  can  have  any  idea  of  a  long  imprisonment 
in  the  South.  They  usually  regard  it  merely  as  an  ab- 
sence of  freedom — as  a  deprivation  of  the  pleasures  and 
excitements  of  ordinary  life.  They  do  not  take  into  con- 
sideration the  scant  and  miserable  rations  that  no  one, 
unless  he  be  half  famished,  can  eat ;  the  necessity  of 
going  cold  and  hungry  in  the  wet  and  wintry  season  ;  the 
constant  torture  from  vermin,  of  which  no  care  nor  pre- 
caution will  free  you ;  the  total  isolation,  the  supreme 
dreariness,  the  dreadful  monotony,  the  perpetual  turning 


S^\iISBURY   PENITEN^TIARY.  319 

inward  of  the  mind  upon  itself,  the  self-devouring  of  the 
lieart,  week  after  week,  month  after  month,  year  after 
year. 

Most  strange  that  captives  there  do  not  lose  their  rea- 
son, or  die  of  inanition  and  despair.  How  hard  it  is  to 
kill  a  man,  I  had  not  fully  learned,  until  fortune  threw 
me  into  Rebel  hands. 

Frequently  I  thought,  in  prison,  of  the  suggestive 
words  of  Glanvil :  "Man  does  not  yield  to  death,  nor  to 
the  angels  even,  save  through  the  weakness  of  a  con- 
quered will ;"  and  my  spirit  seemed  to  grow  stronger  and 
control  the  failing  flesh. 

Man  must  be  a  brute  or  a  philosopher  to  bear  up 
under  all  the  trials  of  confinement  in  Rebeldom ;  and  I 
wonder  now  how  the  stoicism  I  had  so  long  cultivated 
stood  me  in  that  period  of  most  urgent  need. 

Much  do  I  marvel  that  I  passed  through  the  ordeal  un- 
scathed ;  whether  I  am  the  same  mortal  who  bore  with 
outward  calm  and  uncomplaining  fortitude  nearly  two 
years  of  Southern  captivity. 

Was  it  my  other  or  my  actual  self  who  passed  those 
ages  of  months  in  Secessia  ?  I  fancy  I  see  myself  still  in 
Richmond  or  Salisbury,  pacing  those  filthy  floors,  and 
that  he  who  dashes  the  pen  across  the  page  is  another 
identical  form  of  my  developed  consciousness. 

More  fortunate,  as  I  was,  than  most  of  my  fellow- 
prisoners,  still  am  I  surprised  that  I  did  not  perish  in 
pure  self-defense.  What  motives  or  purpose  had  I 
to  cling  to  the  Planet?  Perhaps,  unwittingly,  my  in- 
stincts held  me,  and  informed  me  vaguely  of  the  day  of 
deliverance. 


320  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SEOESSIA. 

All  that  sombre  Past  appears  now  like  a  iiiglitmare 
dream,  and  this  restoration  to  a  free  and  normal  condition 
the  glad  awakening.  The  recent  realities  seem  shadows  ; 
and  yet  they  were  such  shadows  as  struck  terror  to  the 
soul  of  the  tyrant-king. 

While  one  beholds  the  vast,  throbbing,  rushing  life  of 
the  great,  free,  enlightened  North,  he  finds  it  difficult  to 
believe  but  a  few  days  divide  him  from  the  meanness 
and  misery,  the  despair  and  death  and  horror,  that  were 
the  constant  companions  of  the  helpless  victims  immured 
in  the  prison-pens  of  the  South. 


rilOTOGRAPllS   OF   HORROR.  321 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

PHOTOGRAPHS   OF  HORROR. 

Great  Influx  of  Trisoners  at  Salisbury. — Barbarity  of  the  Enemy. — Intense 
Suffering  and  Wholesale  Murder  of  the  Captives. — Pen  Pictures  of  the  Prison. 
— Agonizing  Scenes. — Enlistment  of  our  Soldiers  in  the  Rebel  Service. 
— Shuddering  Strangeness  of  the  Past. — The  Secretary  of  War  Resijousible  for 
the  Sacrifice  of  Ten  Thousand  Lives. 

After  nine  months  of  confinement,  at  Salisbury,  some 
ten  thousand  enlisted  men  were  sent  thither  from  Rich- 
mond and  other  points  ;  and  then  began  a  reign  of  pain 
and  horror  such  as  I  had  not  believed  could  exist  in  this 
Republic  under  any  circumstances. 

Our  j)Oor  soldiers  had  been  robbed  of  their  blankets, 
overcoats,  often  their  shoes  and  blouses,  and  were  sent 
there  in  inclement  weather,  and  turned  for  some  weeks 
into  the  open  inclosure  without  shelter. 

After  a  while  thoy  were  given  tents  capable  of  accom- 
modating about  half  their  number  ;  and  there  they  began 
to  sicken  and  die  from  cold  and  hunger — the  rations 
being  sometimes  only  a  piece  of  corn  bread  in  forty-eight 
hours,  until  the  daily  mortality  ranged  from  twenty-five 
to  forty-five  per  day. 

The  soldiers  dug  holes  in  the  earth  and  under  the  dif- 
ferent buildings  in  the  yard,  constructed  mud  huts  and 
shelters  of  baked  clay,  showiqg  extraordinary  energy 
and  industry  to  shield  themselves  from  wind  and  storm. 


322  FOUR  TEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

But  their  attire  was  so  scant,  and  their  diet  so  mean  and 
meager,  that  they  died  necessarily  by  liundreds. 

Hospital  after  hospital — by  which  I  mean  buildings 
with  a  little  straw  on  the  floor,  and  sometimes  without 
any  straw  or  other  accommodation — was  opened,  and  the 
poor  victims  of  Rebel  barbarity  were  packed  into  them 
like  sardines  in  a  box. 

The  hospitals  were  generally  cold,  always  dirty  and 
without  ventilation,  being  little  else  than  a  protection 
from  the  weather. 

The  patients — God  bless  them,  how  patient  they  were  ! 
— ^had  no  change  of  clothes,  and  could  not  obtain  water 
sufficient  to  wash  themselves. 

Nearly  all  of  them  suffering  from  bowel  complaints, 
and  many  too  weak  to  move  or  be  moved,  one  can  im- 
agine to  what  a  state  they  were  soon  reduced. 

The  air  of  those  slaughter-houses,  as  the  prisoners  were 
wont  to  call  them,  was  overpowering  and  pestiferous. 
It  seemed  to  strike  you  like  a  pestilential  force  on 
entrance,  and  the  marvel  was  it  did  not  poison  all  the 
sources  of  life  at  once. 

Imagine  nine  or  ten  thousand  scantily  clad,  emaciated, 
woe-begone  soldiers — nnnamed  heroes,  who  had  battled 
for  our  sacred  cause  on  twenty  blood-drenched  fields — in 
an  inclosure  of  five  or  six  acres,  half  of  them  without 
other  shelter  than  holes  they  had  dug  in  the  earth,  or 
Tinder  the  small  buildings  employed  as  hospitals. 

The  weather  is  cold  ;  perhaps  a  chilly  rain  is  falling, 
or  the  ground  is  covered  with  snow.  There  are  the 
soldiers — hundreds  of  them  with  naked  feet,  and  only 
light  blouses  or  shirts,  hungry,  feeble,  despairing  of  the 


PIIOTOGRAniS   OF   IIOHROR.  S'2S 

Present  and  hopeless  of  the  Future— huddling  over  a 
small  and  smoky  fire  of  green  wood,  in  a  crowded  tent, 
whose  very  atmosphere  is  poisonous  ;  or  standing  shiver- 
ing against  the  outside  of  the  chimneys  of  tlie  squalid 
hospitals,  hoping  to  warm  their  blood  a  little  from  the 
partially  heated  bricks  ;  or  drawn  up  in  tli(4r  narrow 
caves,  inlialing  the  curling  emanations  of  the  burning 
pine,  and  striving  to  shelter  themselves  from  the  bitter 
wind  ;  or  begging,  with  pallid  and  trembling  lips,  for 
shelter  at  the  door  of  those  lazar-houses  where  their  com- 
panions in  arms  are  lying  in  dirt,  distress,  and  despair, 
breathing  out  their  lives  at  the  rate  of  thirty  and  forty 
a  day. 

Look  into  those  hospitals — strange  perversion  of  the 
name  ! — which  are  small  brick  and  log  buildings,  twenty- 
five  by  sixty  feet,  and  see  how  a  people  who  boast  of 
their  generosity  and  chivalry  can  treat  the  prisoners  they 
have  taken  in  honorable  warfare. 

There  lie  the  prisoners,  in  the  scant  and  tattered 
clothes  they  were  graciously  permitted  by  the  Rebels  to 
keep,  filthy  from  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  water  to 
wash  themselves,  with  no  beds  nor  bedding,  no  covering 
even,  perchance  without  straw;  tossing  and  groaning 
their  miserable  lives  away. 

Fires  blaze  at  one  end,  it  may  be  at  both  ends,  of  the 
tenements ;  but  the  heat  extends  not  for,  and  the  cold 
wind  rushes  in  from  the  broken  windows  and  through 
the  crevices  in  the  walls ;  while  the  air  is  mephitic  and 
noisome  to  such  a  degree,  that  when  you  breathe  it  first 
it  is  almost  suffbcatino:, 

A\Tiat  a  ghastly  line  of  faces  and  of  figures  !    To  have 


324  FOUR  YEARS  IN"  SECESSIA. 

seen  them  once  is  to  remember  them  always.  They  are 
more  like  skeletons  in  rags  than  human  beings.  Ever 
and  anon  some  of  them  strive  to  rise  and  obey  such 
calls  as  Nature  makes  ;  and  a  companion,  less  weak  and 
wasted  tlian  they,  bears  them,  as  if  they  were  children, 
over  the  dirt-incrusted  floor,  and  lays  them  down  again  to 
sufler  to  the  end. 

Here  lies  a  boy  of  sixteen  or  seventeen — whose  mother, 
in  some  far-off  Northern  home,  is  praying  for  him  every 
night  and  morning  ;  to  whom  sisters  are  writing  words 
of  cheer  and  sympathy  he  will  never  see — muttering  in 
fever,  and  beckoning  with  shrunken  hands  to  forms  no 
mortal  eye  can  discover,  but  which  may  be  waiting  to 
bear  his  brave  j^oung  spirit  home. 

There  is  a  gray-haired  man,  who  left  his  farm  and  fire- 
side when  the  traitorous  gun  at  Sumter  woke  a  world  to 
arms.  He  has  passed  unscathed  through  forty  battles, 
to  die  an  unrecorded  hero  here. 

His  eyes  are  fixed,  and  his  minutes  are  numbered. 
Children  and  grand-children  will  look  with  anxious  faces 
at  all  dispatches  and  letters  from  the  Ai-my  of  the  Poto- 
mac, but  will  not  learn,  for  months,  the  fate  of  one  who 
was  only  a  private. 

"Is  this  man  here?"  carefully  inquires  a  soldier,  look- 
ing in  at  the  door  and  reading  the  address  of  a  letter. 
The  answer  is  in  the  affirmative,  and  the  ward-master 
calls  out,  "Mr. ,  here's  a  Northern  letter  for  you." 

There  is  no  eagerness  to  hear.  The  person  addressed 
does  not  even  turn  his  head. 

Strange,  for  he  has  waited  many  weary  weeks  to  see 
the  characters  of  that  well-known  hand ;  has  dreamed 


pnoTOGRAnis  OF  HORROR.  325 

night  after  niglit,  amid  the  pauses  of  his  pain,  of  reading 
the  sweet  assurances  of  his  dear  wife' s  love. 

These  are  the  words :  "Dearest  Husband:  I  have  not 
heard  from  you  for  months.  I  can  not  believe  any  harm 
has  befallen  you ;  for  I  liave  faith  that  Heaven  will  re- 
store you  to  me  at  once.  I  feel  sure  my  deep  and  earnest 
prayers  have  been  answered ;  that  my  affection  will  be 
as  a  shield  to  you,  and  my  fond  bosom  again  be  your 
pillow.'' 

Blessed  words  !  what  would  he  give  if  he  could  behold 
them.  Alas !  they  have  come  too  late.  Her  love  has 
been  lost  in  a  greater  love,  and  the  life  that  is  in  a  life  to 
come. 

Through  all  the  day  and  night  corpses  are  carried  from 
the  hospitals  to  the  dead-house,  where  the  bodies  are 
piled  up  like  logs  of  wood,  until  the  rude  cart  into  which 
they  are  thrown  is  driven  off  with  its  ghastly  freight. 

At  any  hour  one  may  see  men  bearing  across  the  in- 
closure  the  pallid  and  wasted  figure  of  a  soldier,  whom 
the  Rebels  had  starved  or  frozen  to  death  Avith  malice, 
prepense. 

Tliere  goes  into  the  dead-house  a  young  man  who,  four 
years  ago,  was  the  idol  of  his  circle. 

Possessed  of  beauty,  genius,  fortune,  friends — all  that 
could  make  Earth  sweet — he  quitted  the  attractions  of  a 
life  of  ease  and  a  luxurious  home,  and  took  up  his  mus' 
ket  that  his  country  might  be  truly  free. 

Not  even  she  who  loved  him  better  than  a  sister,  more 
intensely  than  a  mother,  would  recognize  him  among  the 
heaped  up  dead. 

The  unclosed  eye  and  gaping  jaw  make  that  once  hand- 


326  FOUR  TEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

some  face  hideous  to  view ;  and  suffering,  and  neglect, 
and  cruelty,  have  changed  it  into  a  vision  of  repulsive- 
ness  and  horror. 

But  \v\iy  seek  to  paint  these  scenes  which  defy  descrip- 
tion ?    Everywhere  is  pain,  squalor,  and  horror. 

All  day  long,  one  sees  wretched,  haggard,  sick,  and 
djdng  men  in  every  part  of  the  inclosure.  Their  faces 
tell  their  story — an  unwritten  epic  in  the  saddest  num- 
bers. Their  wasted  forms  reveal  the  inhumanity  and 
"barbarity  of  a  savage  foe.  Amid  all  that  assemblage  of 
thousands  of  men,  though  the  sun  shines,  and  the  birds 
sing  in  the  groves  near  hy,  not  a  laugh  nor  a  jest  is  heard 
— not  the  faintest  sound  of  merrymaking. 

Not  a  single  face  relaxes  into  a  smile ;  every  eye  is 
dull  with  despondency  ;  every  cheek  sunken  with  want ; 
every  lip  trembling  with  unuttered  pain. 

Disease  and  Death  there  hold  high  carnival,  and  the 
mirror  of  misery  is  held  up  to  every  vacant  stare. 

The  air  is  heavy  with  plaints,  and  prayers,  and  groans, 
and  over  that  accursed  camp  hangs  the  pall  of  despair. 
Guercino  could  paint  no  darker  picture.  Indeed,  no 
limner,  no  artist  in  words  or  colors,  could  give  a  just 
idea  of  the  scenes  of  that  terrestrial  Tophet. 

Suffering  everywhere,  and  no  power  to  relieve  it.  In 
every  tent  and  hole  in  the  ground,  wherever  you  tread 
or  turn,  gaunt  and  ghastly  men,  perishing  by  inches, 
glare  on  you  like  accusing  spectres,  until  you  find  your- 
self forced  to  exclaim,  "Thank  God,  I  am  not  responsible 
fortliis!" 

Little,  if  any  thing,  could  be  done  for  them  medically. 
Hunger  and  exposure  could  not  be  remedied  by  the 


PHOTOGRAPHS  OF  HORROR.  327 

materia  mcdica  ;  and  to  seek  to  heal  them  "by  ordinary- 
means  Avas  like  endeavoring  to  animate  the  grave. 

What  advantage  had  quinine  and  opium  when  they 
could  get  neither  bread  nor  raiment?  The  sending  of 
physicians  into  the  Prison  limits  was  a  ghastly  farce,  for 
the  Rebel  officers  premeditatedly  starved  and  froze  our 
brave  men,  hoping  to  compel  the  Government  to  ex- 
change, or  to  force  the  soldiers  into  the  Southern  service. 

Hundreds  of  the  privates,  anxious  to  save  their  lives, 
joined  the  enemy,  trusting  to  the  future  to  escape.  I 
can  not  blame  them.  Who  could  demand  that  they 
should  await  certain  destruction  in  the  form  of  disease, 
and  cold,  and  hunger,  when  relief  was  offered  them  even 
by  a  cruel  and  barbarous  foe?  No,  I  cannot  censure 
those  who  forgot  in  such  fearful  hours  all  but  their  own 
salvation  ;  yet  I  can  find  no  language  too  strong  to  praise 
the  heroes  that  stood  firm  when  they  seemed  deserted  by 
their  friends,  their  country,  and  their  God. 

The  Rebels,  apparently  not  content  with  the  ravages  of 
disease,  almost  entirely  superinduced  by  starvation  and 
cold,  fired  upon  the  wretched  prisoners  whenever  the 
humor  seized  them  ;  killing  and  wounding  them  without 
reason  or  pretext.  The  guards  seemed  influenced  by  a 
diabolical  spirit,  shooting  men  in  their  tents,  and  in  holes 
in  the  ground,  seemingly  in  tlie  merest  wantonness. 

No  one  was  safe.  Whenever  a  sentinel  felt  in  the 
mood,  he  would  murder  a  "Yankee"  without  hidng 
removed  from  his  post,  or  even  asked  why  he  did  it. 
Again,  and  again,  I  myself  saw  soldiers  fired  upon  by  the 
guard,  and  that  too  when  they  were  transgressing  no  rule, 
and  violating  no  order  whatever. 


328  FOUR  YEAPwS  IN"  SECESSIA. 

My  readers  may  well  ask,  what  motive  had  the  enemy 
for  such  nefarious  crimes  ?  I  can  only  answer,  that  I 
have  often  put  that  question  to  myself ;  tliat  I  am  utterly 
at  a  loss  to  conceive  his  motive  ;  that  he  seemed  actuated 
only  by  a  fiendish  malignity,  to  maim  and  murder  as 
many  Yankees  as  possible. 

On  the  2.')th  of  November  last,  a  few  of  the  prisoners, 
perhaps  a  liundred  or  two,  feeling  tliat  their  condition  was 
entirely  desperate ;  that  they  were  being  deliberately  mur- 
dered by  starvation  and  exposure,  determined  to  attempt 
an  outbreak  ;  knowing  they  could,  at  the  worst,  only  be 
killed,  and  that  death  was  almost  certain  if  they  remained 
in  prison.  Such  arrangements  as  were  practicable  they 
speedily  made,  without  giving  any  intimation  to  the 
other  captives  ;  and,  about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
fell  upon  the  relief-guard,  some  twenty  in  number,  when 
they  entered  the  inclosure,  and  seized  their  muskets. 

Some  of  the  guard  resisted,  and  a  fight  occurred,  in 
which  two  of  the  Rebels  were  killed  and  five  or  six 
wounded,  with  about  the  same  loss  on  the  part  of  the 
insurgents. 

Tlie  alarm  was  immediately  given.  The-  whole  garri- 
son mounted  the  parapet ;  and  though,  in  a  minute,  the 
emeuie  was  suppressed,  the  efibrt  to  get  out  of  the  gate 
having  failed,  they  began  firing  indiscriminately  upon 
the  prisoners,  albeit  it  was  evident  to  the  dullest  obser- 
ver that  tlie  great  majority  had  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  what  was  called  the  insurrection. 

The  prisoners,  seeing  they  were  to  be  shot  down  in 
cold  blood,  took  refuge  in  the  tents,  behind  the  outbuild- 
ings and  hospitals,  and  in  the  caves  they  had  dug.      But 


PHOTOGRAPHS  OF  HORROR.  329 

that  made  no  difference.  The  Rebels  discliarged  two  of 
the  field-pieces  "bearing  on  the  camp,  and  continued  firing 
into  the  tents  upon  the  poor  captives,  who  were  trying  to 
screen  themselves  from  the  murderous  balls. 

For  fully  half  an  hour  the  shooting  went  on,  and,  in 
that  time,  some  seventy  men  were  killed  and  wounded, 
not  one  of  whom,  I  venture  to  say,  had  any  intimation  of 
the  outbreak  before  it  was  undertaken,  and  who  were  as 
guiltless  of  any  attempt  at  insurrection  as  infants  unborn. 

That  was  a  fair  example  of  the  animus  of  the  foe.  He 
found  a  pretext  for  wholesale  slaughter,  and  availed  him- 
self of  it  to  the  uttermost. 

Woe  to  those  who  are  responsible  for  all  that  hideous 
suffering;  to  the  inhuman  Rebels  who  plundered  our 
poor  soldiers  of  their  clothing,  and  turned  them  into  that 
filthy  pen  to  die ;  who  had  store-houses  full  of  provi- 
sions, and  yet  starved  their  unfortunate  captives  with  a 
fiendish  persistency  which  one  must  be  a  believer  in 
total  depravity  to  understand  ! 

The  truth  is,  the  minds  of  the  Southern  people  have  for 
many  years  been  so  abused  by  their  leaders  and  news- 
papers .;  their  source  of  information  respecting  the  North 
has  been  so  poisoned  ;  the  feeHngs,  opinions,  habits,  and 
intentions  of  the  Free  States  have  been  so  grossly  misrep- 
resented, that  it  is  not  singular  the  loyal  citizens  of  the 
Republic  should  be  regarded  by  those  dupes  as  thieves 
and  assassins,  barbarians  and  monsters. 

The  Southern  people,  as  a  class,  have  had  no  means  of 
judging  of  the  Northerners,  for  they  rarely  traveled,  or 
met  socially  those  who  had  traveled  ;  and  the  consequence 
was,  they  believed  whatever  absurd  and  infamous  state- 


330  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

ments  tliey  heard  from  their  demagogues,  or  read  in  their 
newspapers. 

For  at  least  ten  years — twenty -five  wonld  he  nearer  the 
truth — tlie  South  has  heen  carefully  and  constantly  sti- 
mulated and  goaded  into  the  bitterest  hatred  of,  and  direct 
enmity  to,  the  North.  The  Southern  loaders  had  long 
prepared  for  the  overthrow  of  the  Government,  and 
"believing  the  time  ripe  when  Mr.  Lincoln  was  elected, 
undertook  the  aggressive  form  of  treason. 

Secession  became  a  mania.  It  drove  the  embracers  of 
the  doctrine  mad.  All  their  worst  passions  were  enkin- 
dled by  it,  and  they  swept  through  four  years  of  agony 
and  war  to  break  themselves  in  pieces  at  the  feet  of  the 
magnanimous  and  triumphant  Nation. 

Now  that  I  have  escaped  from  that  Hades  of  Salis- 
bury, I  marvel  how  I  ever  endured  to  breathe  that  pesti- 
lential air  ;  how  I  continued,  week  after  week  and  month 
after  month,  to  keep  my  hold  upon  that  dark  point  of 
the  Planet. 

Trul}^,  i|  seems  like  a  nightmare  dream  ;  and  I  can 
hardly  realize  I  ever  lived,  and  walked,  and  labored,  in 
that  place  of  shuddering  horrors. 

While  I  sit  writing  in  an  easy-chair,  glancing  out  of 
the  window  at  the  gay  throng  of  the  ever-changing 
Broadway,  hear  the  peals  of  Trinity  and  the  vast  roar  of 
the  Metropolis,  I  wonder  if  I  have  not  been  drowsing, 
after  reading  Poe,  and  following  his  ghastly  fancies  into 
the  mystic  sphere  of  sleep. 

It  is  not  real,  I  think.  With  all  this  bustle,  and 
energy,  and  beauty,  and  plenty,  and  enlightenment,  and 
Christianity  about  me^  it  cannot  be  that  a  thousand  miles 


PHOTOGRAPHS  OF  HORROR.  331 

away  hundreds  of  heroes,  who  had  borne  our  'flag  on 
dozens  of  knmortal  fields,  died  every  week  from  the  pre- 
meditated cruelty  of  the  Rebels. 

Sijrely  it  cannot  be,  for  the  Government  was  aware  of 
all  the  atrocities  of  Southern  prisons :  it  had  heard  th(^ 
story  over  and  over  again  from  the  lips  of  sufierers  ;  and, 
if  it  had  been  as  was  represented,  the  Government  would 
certainly  have  made  some  effort  to  relieve  its  stanch 
supporters  and  its  brave  defenders. 

Alas  !  the  story  is  too  true  ;  it  is  written  in  thousands 
of  unknown  graves,  whose  occupants,  when  alive,  cried 
to  the  Government  for  redress,  and  yet  cried  in  vain ! 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Richardson  and  myself  reached  our 
lines,  we  determined  to  visit  "Washington  even  before 
returning  to  New  York,  to  see  what  could  be  done  for 
the  poor  prisoners  we  had  left  behind,  and  determine 
what  obstacles  there  had  been  in  the  way  of  an  exchange. 
"We  were  entirely  free.  We  owed  nothing  to  the  Rebels 
nor  to  the  Government  for  our  release.  "We  had  obtained 
our  own  liberty,  and  were  very  glad  of  it ;  for  we  be- 
lieved our  captives  had  been  so  unfairly,  not  to  say 
inhumanly,  treated  at  "Washington,  that  we  were  unwil- 
ling to  be  indebted  to  authorities  of  that  city  for  our 
emancipation. 

We  went  to  Washington — deferring  every  thing  else  to 
move  in  the  matter  of  prisoners— and  did  what  we 
thought  most  effective  for  the  end  we  had  in  view.  Du- 
ring our  sojourn  there,  we  made  it  our  special  business  to 
inquire  into  the  causes  of  the  detention  of  Union  pris- 
oners in  the  South,  although  it  was  known  they  were 
being  deliberately  starved  and  frozen  by  the  Rebels.    We 

22 


332  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECES3IA. 

particularly  endeavored  to  learn  who  was  responsible  for 
the  murder — for  it  was  nothing  else — of  thousands  of  our 
brave  soldiers ;  and  we  did  learn.  There  was  but  one 
answer  to  all  our  questions ;  and  that  was,  Edwin  M. 
Stanton,  Secretary  of  War. 

Although  he  knew  the  exact  condition  of  affairs  in  the 
Rebel  prisons,  he  always  insisted  that  we  could  not 
afford  to  exchange  captives  with  the  South  ;  that  it  was 
not  policy.  Perhaps  it  was  not ;  but  it  was  humanity, 
and  possibly  that  is  almost  as  good  as  policy  in  other 
eyes  than  Mr.  Stanton's. 

After  our  departure  from  Washington,  such  a  storm 
was  raised  about  the  Secretary' s  ears — such  a  tremen- 
dous outside  feeling  was  created — that  he  was  compelled 
to  make  an  exchange. 

The  greater  part  of  the  Northern  prisoners  have  now 
been  released,  I  believe ;  but  there  was  no  more  reason 
why  they  should  have  been  paroled  or  exchanged  since 
February  than  there  was  ten  or  twelve  months  ago.  No 
complications,  no  obstacles  had  been  removed  in  the 
mean  time.  Our  prisoners  might  just  as  well  have  been 
released  a  year  since  as  a  month  since ;  and  if  they  had 
been,  thousands  of  lives  would  have  been  saved  to  the 
Republic,  not  to  speak  of  those  near  and  dear  ones  who 
were  materially  and  spiritually  dependent  upon  them. 

Dreadful  responsibility  for  some  one ;  and  that  some 
one,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  is  the  Secretary  of  War.  I 
hope  I  may  be  in  error,  but  I  cannot  believe  I  am.  K  I 
am  right.  Heaven  forgive  him !  for  the  people  will  not. 
The  ghosts  of  the  thousand  needlessly  sacrificed  heroes 
will  haunt  him  to  his  grave. 


TUNNELS  AND  TUNNELING.  333 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

TUNNELS    AND    TUNNELING. 

Respect  for  Tunnels. — Their  attractive  and  absorbing  Power. — Tunneling  at 
Castle  Thunder. — Difficulty  of  their  construction. — The  Libby  Prison  Enter- 
prise.— Uncertainty  of  their  Completion. — Frequency  of  Excavations  at  Salis- 
bury.— Desires  to  Obtain  Subterranean  Freedom. — Ideal  Regrets. 

Since  my  incarceration  in  Rebel  Prisons  I  have  had  a 
profound  respect  for  the  Thames  Tunnel ;  because,  unlike 
those  with  which  I  had  the  fortune  to  be  connected  in 
Secessia,  it  was  an  established  success. 

Well  was  it  for  the  fame  of  Brunnell  I  had  no  interest 
in  his  great  enterprise,  which  in  that  event  would,  I  am 
confident,  never  have  been  carried  out. 

Tunnels  were  my  thought  by  da}^  and  my  dream  by 
night  for  nearly  twenty  months, 

I  was  always  a  large  stockholder  in  some  Tunnel  con- 
templated, begun,  or  completed. 

I  helped  to  plan  Tunnels  ;  watched  over  them ;  sat  up 
■with  them ;  crept  into  them  and  out  of  them  ;  but,  alas  ! 
never  crept  through  one  of  them. 

Freedom  was  in  some  way  associated  in  my  mind  with  a 
Tunnel. 

I  fancied  Adam  must  have  crawled  into  Paradise 
through  a  Tunnel. 

A  Tunnel  to  me  was  the  greatest  work  of  Man. 


334  FOCIi   YEAES  IX   SECLSSIA. 

Dig  a  Timnol,  and  get  out  of  it,  appeared  the  injunction 
of  the  Gods ! 

With  attent  ear  I  lieard  the  divine  injunction  ;  and  yet 
its  latter  portion  I  could  not  obey.  Witness  all  those 
■weary,  dreary  months,  how  often  and  how  energetically 
I  tried,  and  only  tried  to  fail  ! 

In  the  Libby  Prison  the  Union  officers  had  no  oppor- 
tunity to  dig  a  Tunnel  while  I  was  there,  their  quarters 
being  too  far  removed  from  mother  Earth.  But  when  I 
was  removed  to  Castle  Thunder  I  fell  in  with  a  number 
of  amateur  engineers,  who  believed  the  way  to  Liberty 
lay  through  the  sacred  soil  of  Virginia. 

They  so  believed,  and  acted  upon  their  belief.  Tunnel 
after  Tunnel  was  made  there  ;  but  they  were  always  so 
long  in  its  construction,  that  it  was  either  exposed  by 
traitors,  or  discovered  by  the  officials. 

It  is  singular  how  much  the  prisoners  accomplished 
with  slender  means.  They  rarely  had  more  than  a  case 
knife  or  an  old  hinge  ;  and  yet  with  that  they  would  dig, 
in  a  few  days,  a  hole  large  enough  to  admit  the  body  of  a 
man,  through  ten  and  even  twenty  feet  of  earth. 

The  greatest  difficulties  in  the  construction  of  a  Tunnel 
are  the  disposition  of  the  dirt  and  the  lack  of  fresh  air, 
which,  as  soon  as  the  excavation  is  carried  to  a  distance, 
very  soon  becomes  exhausted. 

A  Tunnel  is  so  old  and  well-known  a  means  of  egress 
from  Prison,  that  the  authorities  are  ever  on  the  alert  to 
find  one  ;  and  the  appearance  of  any  quantity  of  dirt 
would  at  once  excite  suspicion.  Hence  the  greatest  pre- 
caution is  necessary.  Haversacks  and  small  bags  are 
brought  into  requisition,  and  the  dirt  is  carried,  little  by 


TUNNELS   AND   TUNNELING.  335 

little,  from  the  mouth  of  the  Tunnel  to  some  place  where 
it  will  not  attract  attention. 

Operators  usually  select  some  spot  where  they  think 
they  wiU  not  be  interrupted,  near  the  outside  limits  of 
the  Prison,  and  go  to  work.  They  toil  like  beavers, 
laboring  often  day  and  night  with  changes  of  hands, 
because  they  feel  the  danger  of  delay.  I  have  known 
numerous  Tunnels  to  be  discovered  because  their  com- 
pletion had  been  deferred  over  a  single  night. 

At  Castle  Thunder,  by  getting  down  into  an  old  store- 
room below  the  Court-Martial  room,  as  it  was  termed, 
one  could  begin  his  Tunnel  beside  the  rear  wall  of 
the  Prison,  sldrting  an  alley  fifteen  feet  wide ;  and  as 
few  persons  went  there,  the  prospect  of  disturbance  was 
small. 

The  design  was  to  commence  digging  in  the  moriling, 
and  finish  it  before  dawn  the  following  day.  That  never 
could  be  accomplished,  or  at  least  never  was  while  I 
remained  there.  If  it  had  been,  I  should  have  gotten  out 
certainly  ;  for  I  frequently  sat  up  watching  the  progress 
of  the  subterranean  bore,  all  ready  to  wake  my  com- 
panions, and  depart  at  a  moment' s  notice. 

During  the  five  months  I  was  at  the  Castle,  more  than 
a  dozen  Tunnels  must  have  been  constructed,  all  running 
under  the  alley  mentioned,  and  designed  to  come  up  the 
other  side  of  the  fence,  out  of  sight  of  the  sentinels, 
where  one  could  have  walked  through  a  military-hospital 
yard  to  Main-street,  and  made  good  his  retreat. 

The  most  extensive  and  successful  Tunnel  in  the  South, 
during  my  compulsory  sojourn  there,  was  that  made  by 
the  officers  at  the  Libby  Prison,  in  the  month  of  February, 


33G  FOUll   YEARS  IX   SECESSIA. 

'G3,   by  Avhich  over  one   liundred  and  twenty  escaped, 
and  some  sixty-five  got  tlirougli  into  our  lines. 

There  the  officers  had  ample  leisure  to  work,  and  were 
engaged  three  or  four  weeks  in  the  enterprise.  They 
.  removed  the  bricks  of  a  heartli  in  a  store-room  on  the 
ground  floor,  cut  through  a  stone  wall  two  feet  thick,  and 
then  began  the  Tunnel  proper,  which  was  carried  some 
fifty  or  sixty  feet  into  an  inclosure,  passing  the  prisoners 
under,  and  placing  them  beyond,  the  beat  of  the  sentinels. 

The  officers  relieved  each  other  constantly,  and  con- 
ducted their  labor  so  adroitly  that  Major  Turner  had  not 
the  faintest  suspicion  of  what  was  going  on. 

When  so  large  a  number  was  missed,  the  morning  after 
the  escape,  the  Rebel  authorities  were  nonplused.  They 
could  not  imagine,  for  an  hour,  what  'had  become  of  them. 
They  went  to  the  store-room  and  searched  carefully,  but 
still  could  find  nothing  of  the  Tunnel ;  nor  was  it  till  late 
in  the  afternoon  that  they  made  the  discovery. 

The  nature  of  Tunnels  is  such,  that  the  Avork  neces- 
sarily makes  slow  progi'ess.  As  soon  as  they  are  fairly 
started,  and  the  operator  is  below  the  surface,  he  is  com- 
pelled to  lie  flat  on  his  face,  at  full  length,  and,  using  his 
knife,  or  whatever  implement  he  may  have,  he  throws  the 
dirt  behind  him,  which  is  gathered  up  by  an  assistant, 
and  removed  in  a  pan  or  bag. 

The  mole  performance  is  continued  day  after  day  until 
it  is  supposed  the  Tunnel  is  ready  to  be  tapped  or 
opened.  That  is  an  imjDortant  matter,  and  it  is  requisite 
that  the  distance  be  accurately  measured.  Awkward 
mistakes  and  needless  discoveries  have  been  made  by 
neglect  of  proper  precautions  in  that  respect. 

I  remember  distinctly  a  Tunnel  by  which  the  Corre- 


TUNNELS   AND   TUNNELING.  337 

spondent  of  the  Cincinnati  Gazette  and  mysolf  oxpocted 
to  escape  at  Salisbury,  during  the  month  of  November, 
AVe  were  assured  it  would  be  ready  for  openi:l'g  at  ten 
o'clock;  but  after  examining  it,  and  sitting  uj)  with  it 
until  after  twelve,  we  concluded  there  was  no  hope  for  it 
that  night,  and  we  went  disappointed  to  our  bunks.  Tlie 
next  morning,  about  dayliglit,  it  was  tajiped,  and  came 
up  nearly  two  feet  this  side  of  the  inclosure  instead  of  the 
other  side.  And,  to  complete  the  ill  fortune,  a  Eobel 
officer  stepped  into  it  before  noon  the  same  day. 

A  woman's  humor  is  not  more  uncertain  than  a 
Tunnel. 

I  never  knew  any  man  to  make  a  correct  calculation  of 
the  time  of  a  Tunnel' s  completion.  But  you  can  always 
conclude,  when  its  engineers  declare  positivelj^  thr.t  it 
will  be  done  in  two  days,  that  it  will  still  require  some 
finishing  strokes  at  the  close  of  a  week.  Tunnels  linger 
longer  than  rich  relatives  whom  expectant  heirs  are 
waiting  to  bury. 

Two  or  three  begun  at  Salisbury,  that  were  to  be  com- 
pleted by  November  1st,  were  only  half  dug  in  the 
middle  of  December. 

The  truth  is,  that  the  operators  are  so  anxious  to  finish 
a  Tunnel  that  they  calculate  their  capacity  for  perform- 
ance, even  with  their  wretched  implements,  by  the 
intensity  of  their  desire. 

AVlien  we  three  Bohemians  escaped  from  Salisbury, 
there  were  four  Tunnels  completed,  and  at  least  seven 
more  in  a  half-finished  state.  The  former  would  have 
been  tapped  Aveeks  before,  had  not  some  wretclies  who 
had  been  interested  in  them  enlisted  in  the  Rebel  service, 
and  exposed  them  to  the  authorifies. 


338  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Tlie  officers  of  the  prison  could  not  find  where  they 
were  located,  or  exactly  where  they  were  to  come  out ; 
but  they  placed  extra  guards  at  all  the  points  designated, 
so  preventing  any  chance  of  escape. 

We  regretted  that  greatly,  because  we  preferred  to 
pass  out  of  a  Tunnel,  as  we  could  then  have  carried  with 
us  blankets  and  provisions ;  but,  going  in  the  way  we 
did,  we  were  compelled  to  travel  light. 

I  was  anxious  to  realize  my  long  dream,  and  pass  to 
the  outer  AVorld,  from  which  I  had  been  so  long  separ- 
ated, by  a  Tunnel ;  but  when  I  found  myself  fairly  free, 
I  ceased  to  mourn  that  my  long-cherished  hopes  as  to  the 
means  of  exit  had  been  blasted. 

A  Tunnel  is  a  Tunnel ;  but  Liberty  is  Liberty ;  and 
the  latter  is  acceptable  in  any  form,  while  the  former 
alone  is  but  an  abstraction. 

Possessing  Freedom,  I  have  small  general  regrets  that  a 
Tunnel  did  not  helj)  me  to  it ;  though  in  my  loftiest 
moods  I  lament  in  spirit  that  a  Tunnel,  on  whose  tawny 
bosom  I  had  lain,  like  a  subterranean  Antony  hanging 
upon  an  earthy  Cleopatra' s  lips,  bore  me  not  to  the  upper 
air  and  the  blessings  of  the  disenthralled. 

In  my  ra^ot  moments  of  the  Future,  in  my  visions  of 
the  Night,  I  shall  still  dwell  on  the  perfidy  of  Tunnels — 
the  Elfridas  of  excavations.  I  shall,  perhaps,  endeavor — 
my  mind  going  back  to  the  dreariness  and  horror  I  have 
left  behind — to  pass  out  of  some  Broadway  Hotel  by 
undermining  the  Brussels  carpet,  and  carrying  out  the 
ottoman  in  an  imaginary  haversack,  and  so  realize  in 
sleep  the  passionate  prompting  of  Prison  hours,  distant, 
thank  Heaven  !  and  departed,  I  tnist,  forever. 


MUGGING.  339 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

MUGGING. 

The  Meaning  of  the  Term. — ^TVTio  the  Muggers  were. — Their  Plan  of  Opera- 
tion.— Character  of  their  Victim3. — IndiCference  of  the  Authorities  on  the 
Subject. — Flogging  of  Northern  Deserters. — Their  Cruel  Treatment. — Mugging 
in  Richmond  and  SaUsbury. — Its  Reduction  to  a  System. — Our  Own  Soldiers 
in  the  Business. — A  Vigilance  Committee  Proposed. 

Few  of  our  readers  wlio  have  enjoyed  tlie  blessings 
of  freedom  all  their  lives  will  understand  the  meaning 
of  the  caption  of  this  chapter,  the  purpose  of  which  is 
to  explain  in  detail  what  the  term  represents. 

Mugging  is  the  argot  expression  for  robbing,  and  one 
of  the  most  popular  words  in  the  Southern-Prison  lexi- 
con. Every  place  in  Secessia  where  miscellaneous  cap- 
tives  are  held  contains  its  Muggers  in  abundance.  They 
were  originally  Rebels,  but  so  demoralizing  was  their 
example,  and  so  extensive  their  practice,  that  they  added 
quite  a  number  of  our  own  men  to  their  ranks. 

In  the  Libby,  being  in  the  officers'  quarters,  we  saw 
no  mugging,  although  a  great  deal  of  it  was  going  on  in 
other  parts  of  tlie  Prison  ;  and  after  we  were  removed  to 
Castle  Thunder  and  the  Salisbury  Penitentiary,  we  were 
daily  witnesses  of  its  operations. 

The  chief  Muggers  in  every  instance  were  Rebels, — 
natural  tliieves,  born  bullies,  and  thoroughly-developed 
ruffians, — who  had  lost  tlieir  liberty  by  deserting,  s^vin- 


340  FOUR   YEARS   JN  SECESSIA. 

dling,  stealing,  and  violating  in  various  ways  the  military 
as  well  as  the  civil  law.  *A  few  of  them  formed  the 
nucleus  for  all  the  rascals  who  might  be  consigned  to  the 
Prison  from  time  to  time ;  and  as  they  were  organized, 
they  had  strength,  and  large  capacity  for  mischief. 

Tlie  Muggers,  like  most  bullies  and  ruffians,  manifested 
a  fine  discrimination  respecting  the  party  they  attacked, 
selecting  those  they  thought  they  could  rob  with  little 
resistance  and  entire  impunity. 

Any  person  they  saw  fit  to  make  their  victim  had  small 
chance  of  escape.  They  would  fall  on  him  at  night  in 
numbers,  throw  a  blanket  over  his  head,  hold  him  down, 
and  rifle  his  clothes  at  will,  the  surrounding  darkness 
preventing  him  from  determining  who  were  the  robbers. 
If  he  resisted,  he  was  cruelly  beaten,  and  often  was  so 
served  when  he  submitted  quietly  to  the  plunderers. 

They  generally  selected  some  unsophisticated  fellow  or 
ruralist  to  "go  through,"  as  they  termed  it,  and  did  it 
most  eflectually.  The  unfortujrate,  at  first  taken  by  sur- 
prise, and  then  terrified  by  the  terrible  threats  they 
would  make  in  the  event  of  his  raising  an  alarm,  Avould 
permit  himself  to  be  robbed  without  an  outward  protest 
or  murmur ;  and  in  the  morning  would  find  himself 
moneyless,  coatless,  shoeless,  and  hatless. 

Sometimes  I  have  known  men  to  be  completely  stripped 
of  their  clothing,  and  cruelly  belabored  beside.  Proba- 
bly the  victim  would  not  be  aware  who  the  Muggers 
were  ;  and  if  he  did,  would  be  afraid  to  expose  them  to 
the  authorities,  on  account  of  the  sanguinary  menaces 
promulgated  against  all  informers. 

That  honest  men  should  be  plundered  and  beaten  by 


MUGGING.  341 

scoundrels  who  were  notorious,  and  be  prevented  by 
apprehension  of  physical  consequences  from  giving  their 
names,  is  a  hardship,  independent  of  the  severity  of 
Prison,  Avhich  must  be  difficult  to  endure.  The  princi- 
pal Sluggers  were  very  well  known  in  Richmond  and 
Salisbury  to  the  commandants  there  ;  but  only  in  a  few 
instances  were  they  punished. 

As  the  "Yankees"  were  for  the  most  part  the  suf- 
ferers,—the  Southern  captives  had  little  to  lose,— perhaps 
the  authorities  felt  no  disposition  to  cast  over  them  the 
mantle  of  protection..  Whatever  the  cause,  they  most 
shamefully  failed  to  perform  their  duty.  They  said,  if 
they  could  obtain  the  Muggers'  names,  they  should  be 
severely  punished  ;  but  made  no  effort  to  ferret  out  the 
perpetrators  of  the  outrages.  They  could  have  put  a 
stop  to  the  nefarious  practice  in  forty-eight  hours,  if  they 
would  have  done  so,  as  was  shown  by  the  flogging  at 
Salisbury  of  a  dozen  Northern  deserters  who  had  been 
guilty  of  mugging  their  own  class. ' 

Captain  G.  W.  Alexander,  who  inflicted  the  punish- 
ment, refrained  from  bestowing  it  upon  the  Rebel  con- 
victs, although  they  were  far  worse  than  our  deserters, — 
proving  that  his  conduct  arose  from  passion  instead  of 
principle.  Indeed,  he  afterwards  ordered  a  number  of 
lashes  given  to  the  unfortunate  deserters  because  an 
attempt  had  been  made  to  escape  from  their  quarters, 
and  they  would  not  expose  the  parties  who  had  partici- 
pated in  the  enterprise. 

That  was  infamous ;  and  plainly  indicated  that  Alex- 
ander, who  was  at  heart  a  brute  and  bully, — and,  if  the 
opinion  of  his  intimates  might  be  trusted,  not  possessed 


342  FOUR   YEARS   IX  SECE^SIA. 

of  that  extraordinary  courage  to  which  he  pretended, — 
would  have  flogged  every  prisoner  at  Salisbury,  if  he 
had  dared,  for  the  smallest  infraction  of  discipline.  The 
deserters  had  no  friends,  North  or  South,  and  he  fell  on 
them  for  that  reason. 

Little  love  have  I  for  our  deserters  or  for  Muggers ; 
but  when  I  saw  them  tied  to  a  whipping-post,  and  lashed 
with  a  leather  thong  by  a  muscular  Sergeant,  my  blood 
boiled  with  indignation,  and  every  nerve  in  my  body 
thrilled. 

The  punishment  seemed  an  insult  to  the  Race,  and 
degraded,  I  thought,  all  who  witnessed  it. 

Although  Alexander,  when  he  whipped  the  deserters, 
sent  armed  soldiers  to  all  the  Prison  quarters  to  compel 
attendance  in  the  yard,  for  the  purpose  of  witnessing  the 
revolting  spectacle,  I  always  contrived  to  avoid  being 
present. 

Years  before,  my  pulses  had  throbbed  and  my  blood 
leaped  to  my  cheek  when  I  had  accidentally  seen  negroes 
lashed  in  the  South, — thank  Heaven,  I  shall  see  no  more 
of  that  ignominious  brutality  in  this  fair  country ! — and 
I  was  in  no  better  frame  of  mind,  years  after,  to  witness 
the  beating  of  members  of  the  Caucasian  family. 

When  the  mugging  continued  ;  when  old  and  innocent 
men  were  pounded  so  severely  that  they  could  not  be 
removed  from  the  hospital  for  weeks,  merely  because 
they  wer^  umvilling  to  be  robbed  of  what  served  for 
their  physical  salvation ;  when,  night  after  night,  the 
most  brutal  assaults  were  made  by  the  worst  of  ruffians 
upon  all  who  had  any  thing  to  lose,  I  changed  my  opinion 
somewhat ;   concluding  that  if  whipping  were  the  only 


MUGGING.  343 

remedy  for  mugging,— wbicli  I  did  not  beUeve,— it  ought 
to  be  well  laid  on. 

Our  deserters  I  rather  pitied,  when  I  found  they  were 
made  the  scapegoats  for  others'  offenses ;  that  the  Rebels 
took  advantage  of  their  position  to  treat  them  with  unde- 
served harshness.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  people,  unless 
they  were  "chivalrous,"  imprisoning  and  persecuting 
the  soldiers  who,  they  were  bound  to  suppose,  had  fled 
from  our  Army  to  theii's  out  of  sympathy  with  the 
Southern  cause*? 

At  Castle  Thunder,  in  Richmond,  the  Mugging  was 
mainly  confined  to  two  of  the  rooms  of  the  Prison,  one 
of  them  immediately  above  the  apartment  in  which  I  was 
confined. 

Almost  nightly  a  rush  would  be  made  on  the  floor 
above  ;  several  bodies  would  be  heard  to  fall ;  perhaps 
a  loud  outcry,  with  "murder,  murder,  murder"  attach- 
ments ;  then  a  heavy  struggle  and  a  general  confusion, 
followed  by  a  return  of  quietude. 

Those  were  the  mugging  demonstrations,  and  rarely 
attracted  any  attention. 

In  the  morning,  several  new  men  would  report  that 
they  had  been  robbed  and  beaten ;  though  they  would  be 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  perpetrators,  as  the^  assault  had 
been  committed  in  the  darkness. 

•  Xo  investigation  would  be  made,  no  inquiry  estab- 
lished. The  whole  thing  would  be  taken  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  repeated  as  soon  as  any  fresh  subjects 
presented  themselves. 

At  the  Penitentiary  in  Salisbury,  Mugging  was  reduced 
to  a  system. 


344  FOUK  YEAES  IX  SECESSIA. 

Men  ■\vere  frequently  mugged  in  the  Prison-yard.  Sev- 
eral of  the  band  would  gather  round  the  intended  victim, 
who  on  a  sudden  would  be  thrown  to  the  ground ;  his 
pockets  turned  inside  out ;  his  coat  and  hat,  sometimes 
his  shoes,  taken  ;  after  which  he  would  be  let  alone  until 
he  obtained  more  money  or  clothes  to  invite  a  fresh 
attack. 

The  Rebel  room,  in  the  third  story,  where  the  convicts 
were  confined,  was  the  principal  field  for  mugging.  Tlie 
wildest  cries  of  pain  and  terror  emanated  from  that  quar- 
ter every  night  or  two  ;  and  daylight  would  reveal  some 
poor  fellow  with  black  eyes,  swelled  lip,  and  badly  cut 
face,  deprived  of  all  his  valuables  and  a  large  portion  of 
his  clothes. 

The  Rebels  would  be  abroad  at  an  early  hour,  and 
dispose  of  their  stolen  goods  to  some  of  the  guards  who 
were  in  league  with  them  ;  thus  removing  all  traces  of 
tlie  theft. 

Complaint,  as  I  have  said,  proved  of  no  avail. 

The  authorities  would  return  the  stereotyped  answer  : 
Point  out  the  men  who  robbed  you,  and  they  shall  be 
punished. 

The  victims,  even  if  they  kneyr"  the  thieves,  vtare  afraid 
to  give  the  ftames,  knowing  they  would  be  beaten  half 
to  death  as  soon  as  they  were  shut  up  again  with  the 
convicts. 

So  far  as  my  observation  extended,  the  officers  of  the 
Prison  seemed  to  favor  the  most  notorious  scoundrels  of 
the  place,  provided  they  were  on  their  side.  They  re- 
served their  wrath  for  the  Northern  deserters,  who  soon 
became  weary  of  the  mugging  business,  from  the  fact 


MUGGING.  345 

that  they  were  made  to  answer  for  the  sins  of  all  the 
other  thieves  without  reaping  any  fair  proportion  of  the 
ill-gotten  gains. 

Ko  attempt  was  ever  made  to  mug  either  my  cov/rere 
or  myself,  although  we  frequently  anticipated  and  pre- 
pared ourselves  for  an  attack,  in  conjunction  with  some 
more  muscular  allies,  offensive  and  defensive. 

Frequently  we  lay  down  with  clubs  under  our  heads, 
and  slept,  as  the  phrase  is,  with  one  eye  open. 

Amiable  as  we  were  by  nature,  the  constant  repeti- 
tion of  such  outrages  made  us  feel  a  trifle  bellicose  ;  and 
we  concluded,  if  we  were  mugged,  we  would  endeavor 
to  give  the  muggers  something  to  show  for  it. 

Well  perhaps  for  our  expectations  and  our  physical 
condition,  the  experiment  was  never  tried  on  us.  We 
were  not  sorry,  for  we  did  not  regard  it  as  an  experience 
we  particularly  needed. 

When  the  nine  or  ten  thousand  Union  soldiers  were 
sent  to  Salisbury,  many  of  the  most  worthless  formed  a 
league  with  the  Rebels,  and  the  two  forces  carried  mat- 
ters with  a  high  hand  up  to  the  time  of  our  escape.  Rob- 
beries continually  occurred.  Men  were  stabbed,  and 
their  skulls  cracked  ;  some  thrown  out  of  the  windows, 
and  their  necks  broken ;  but  the  authorities  in  no  manner 
interfered. 

The  better  class  of  prisoners  talked  seriously  of  insti- 
tuting a  "Vigilance  Committee,"  and  hanging  some  of 
the  principal  Muggers,  as  had  been  done  at  Anderson- 
ville,  Georgia,  a  few  months  before— by  the  by,  four  of 
the  individuals  executed  there  had  gone  from  Salisbury, 
where  they  had  been  held  as  deserters,— but  no  definite 


^4:6  FOUR   YEARS   IIT  SECESSIA. 

plan  of  action  had  been  agreed  upon  at  the  period  of  our 
hegira. 

Justice,  whicli  had  long  slumbered  at  Salisbury,  fell, 
I  fear,  into  a  sleep  too  deep  for  waking. 


DESPERATE   ESCAPE.  347 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

DESPERATE    ESCAPE. 

Constant  Effort  of  Prisoners  for  Freedom.— Practicability  versus  Planning.— 
A  Trio  of  Desperadoes.— Cause  of  their  Extraordinary  Gayety.— Their  Remark- 
able Exodus. 

Ix  Prison,  the  inmates  tliink  and  talk  of  little  Ibeside 
escape. 

To  them,  freedom  is  everything ;  all  else,  nothing. 

By  day  and  night  they  revolve  one  plan  and  another 
in  their  mind ;  hope  and  despond ;  try  and  are  frustrated ; 
attempt  and  are  punished.  Yet  they  return  to  their 
favorite  idea,  and  endeavor  and  re-endeavor,  though 
faHure  ever  foUows.  Dungeons  and  bayonets  have  Uttle 
restraining  influence. 

Few  men  who  wiU  not  brave  the  possibilities  of  death, 
when  freedom  beckons,  and  they  are  encircled  by  the 
horrors  of  a  Rebel  Prison. 

How  weU  I  remember  the  numerous  trials  and  failures 
of  my  confrere  and  myself  to  escape!  It  seemed* as  if 
we  never  could  get  out.  Our  genius,  we  thought,  did 
not  He  in  that  direction.  Our  plans  were  elaborate,  and 
so  were  our  preparations.  We  speculated  constantly  on 
what  we  might  do  ;  talked  of  the  feasible  in  our  blankets 
far  into  the  night,  amid  the  pulsings  of  the  stars  and  the 
ravages  of  insects. 

While  we  theorized  grandly,  some  dull  fellow,  witli 


348  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

only  one  idea,  but  that  in  the  right  direction,  got  out, 
and  brought  us,  with  our  fine  reasoning  and  subtile  calcu- 
lations, to  overwhehning  sliame. 

Was  the  fault  with  us,  or  with  the  Gods  ? 

It  matters  not  now,  for  at  last  the  Gods  were  kind. 

While  at  Castle  Thunder,  we  were  taught  what  enter- 
prise and  nerve  will  accomplish. 

Three  prisoners  on  capital  charges  were  in  the  con- 
demned cell,  heavily  ironed.  They  were  desperate  fel- 
lows, no  doubt,  and  endured  their  situations  very 
cheerfully — laugliing,  singing,  and  howling  in  the  most 
uproarious  style. 

Their  gayety  seemed  to  increase  daily ;  for  they  soon 
began  dancing  in  theu*  chains,  and  dropphig  their  iron 
balls  on  the  floor  as  if  sporting  with  their  misfortunes. 

This  latter  entertainment  they  kept  up  so  regularly,  I 
began  to  suspect  there  was  meaning  in  it,  and  that  it 
covered  a  design, 

Nor  was  I  mistaken,  as  the  sequel  proved. 

About  two  o'clock  we  heard  a  row  and  a  rush  below; 
the  discharge  of  several  muskets,  and  the  general  indica- 
tions of  a  disturbance.  "We  could  learn  nothing  then ; 
but  after  breakfast, — the  eating  of  a  piece  of  corn-bread, 
the  thtowiug  away  of  a  bit  of  fat,  rancid  bacon,  and  the 
swallowing  of  a  cup  of  water,  was  so  denominated  in  the 
Castle, — we  were  apprised  of  the  adventure  of  the  tur- 
bulent trio. 

It  appears  they  had  made  all  the  noise  to  drown  the 
sawing  through  of  the  floor  which  was  over  a  store-room ; 
and  at  an  hour  of  the  night  or  morning  when  the  sentinels 
were  apt  to  be  careless,  they  took  up  a  part  of  thfl 


DESPERATE  ESCAPE.  349 

■boards,  and  slowly  and  silently  slipped  into  the  under 
apartment,  having  let  themselves  down  by  strips  of  a 
blanket  they  had  torn  up  for  that  purpose. 

The  enterprising  scoundrels  then  quietly  forced  open  a 
window  into  a  passage  leading  to  the  street  door  of  the 
Prison ;  and  in  the  shadow  of  that  quarter  seized  three 
muskets  placed  against  the  wall  on  racks.  They  then 
rushed  upon  the  guard  nearest  them,  and  struck  him 
with  the  butt  of  the  piece,  knocking  him  senseless  over 
an  iron  railing  that  ran  across  the  passage. 

The  outer  sentinel  saw  this  movement,  and  prepared 
for  it,  bringing  his  gun  to  the  position  of  a  charge.  He 
had  mistaken  his  men,  if  he  supposed  that  would  stop 
them.  They  dashed  upon  him,  and  he  was  just  on  the 
point  of  tiring,  when  the  nearest  prisoner  discharged  the 
contents  of  his  musket  into  the  breast  of  the  guard,  liter- 
ally tearing  his  breast  to  pieces,  and  of  course  killing 
him  instantly. 

Tliey  then  ran  into  the  street,  past  the  outer  sentinels, 
who  were  too  much  surprised  to  act,  and  who  forgot  to 
use  their  muskets  until  too  late.  The  fugitives  were 
nearly  to  Seventeenth  street,  when  the  Rebels  gave  a 
dropi^ing  fire  as  harmless  as  it  was  useless.  The  alarm 
was  given,  and  the  garrison  of  the  Prison  beaten  to  arms, 
but  no  traces  of  the  bold  prisoners  coidd  be  found. 
"Where  they  went,  how  they  went,  and  by  what  route, 
was  never  known ;  but  a  week  or  ten  days  after,  their 
arrival  at  Fortress  Monroe  was  publicly  announced. 

They  had  gallantly  earned  their  freedom,  and  I  hope 
they  enjoyed  it  more  honestly  and  worthily  than  I  fear 
they  did  before  they  became  inmates  of  the  Castle. 


350  FOUR   YEARS  IN"   SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  XLYII. 

UNION   BUSHWHACKERS. 

Cause  of  Bushwhackers. — Repulsiveness  of  the  Custom. — Its  Excuse. — Their 
Sufferings  and  "Wrongs. — Collisions  with  Home-Guards. — Victories  of  Union 
Men. — Terror  of  their  Name. — The  Vendetta  in  the  Mountains. — Virtues  of 
the  Southern  Royalists. — War  of  Extermination. — A  Fearful  Avenger. 

Bushwhackers  are  peculiar  features  of  this  War,  which 
indeed  gave  them  birth.  So  much  has  been  said,  and  so 
little  is  known,  of  them,  that  a  chapter  on  their  life,  man- 
ners, and  habits,  cannot  be  out  of  place  in  a  volume  like 
this.  During  my  long  march  from  Salisbury  to  Straw- 
beiTy  Plains,  I  had  abundance  of  opportunities  to  make 
their  acquaintance,  learn  their  history,  and  observe  their 
idiosyncrasies. 

This  great  struggle  has  made  Bushwhackers  on  both 
sides ;  but  it  is  of  the  Union  class  I  propose  to  speak. 
They  are  confined  to  the  Border  States,  or  to  those  sec- 
tions where  political  feeling  is  greatly  divided ;  where 
military  power  has  usurped  the  right  of  the  people,  and 
compelled  them  to  resist  aggression  by  the  most  stealthy 
and  deadly  means. 

It  is  diflBcult  for  an  honorable  or  a  courageous  man, 
who  has  seen  aught  of  military  life,  to  endure,  much  less 
sanction,  bushwhacking.  All  one's  instincts  revolt  at  it. 
It  i^  slaughter  without  any  of  the  palliating  circumstances 
of  hot  blood,  generous  passion,  struggle  for  principle. 


UNION   r.USIIWIIACKEPwS.  351 

It  is  treacherous,  coldly  calculating,  "brutal ;  and  yet, 
"believing  all  that,  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  blame 
many  of  the  men  who  resort  to  it  in  the  mountainous 
regions  of  North  Carolina  and  Tennessee. 

They  were  quiet,  peaceable,  industrious,  loyal ;  opposed 
to  the  doctrine  of  Secession,  and  all  its  attendant  heresies  ; 
the  natural  antagonists  of  the  Slaveholders  ;  lovers  of  the 
"Union  for  the  Union  s  sake,  and  regarded  as  an  enemy 
whoever  would  seek  its  destruction. 

When  the  Rebels  brought  on  the  War,  those  loyalists 
held  themselves  aloof,  determined  to  take  no  part  in  it 
unless  on  the  side  of  the  Republic. 

The  contest  continued,  and  the  Conscription  Act  was 
passed.  Then  those  innocent  and  patriotic  citizens  were 
forced  either  to  enter  the  insurgent  army  or  run  away ; 
leaving  theii*  property  and  wives  and  children — all  they 
held  most  dear — behind  them,  and  seek  some  new  locality 
that,  to  their  slender  observation  and  limited  knowledge, 
appeared  like  another  sphere. 

Domestic  by  nature  and  habits,  they  were  unwilling  to 
quit  their  firesides  and  the  few  acres  that  had  been  and 
were  their  World.  They  would  rather  die  than  surrender 
all  they  valued  in  life.  Yet  they  could  not  stay  at  home. 
If  not  carried  off  to  the  army,  they  were  hunted,  harried, 
persecuted ;  driven  into  the  woods  and  mountains  like 
wild  beasts.  Frequently  they  were  killed  or  wounded 
by  the  Home-Guards ;  oftener  captured  and  sent  bound 
to  Richmond,  where  they  were  put  into  the  field. 

At  the  earliest  opportunity  they  would  desert,  of  course, 
and  return  to  their  humble  dwellings.  Then  would  begin 
the  persecution  anew.    They  had  forfeited  their  lives  by 


352  FOUR  YExVRS  IN  SECESSIA. 

desertion.    Whenever  the  Guard  saw  them,  they  would  "be 
fired  on. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  conceive  how  a  few  months  of  such 
experience  would  transform  a  man  from  an  enduring  saint 
to  an  aggressive  demon. 

Amiable,  gentle,  merciful  at  first,  the  process  by  which 
they  were  transformed  into  Buslnvhackers  rendered  them 
vicious,  passionate,  bloodthirsty.  They  were  coerced  to 
live  in  caves,  or  pits  dug  in  the  earth ;  and  while  they 
were  absent,  the  Guards  or  Rebel  cavalry  would  visit  the 
houses  of  the  fugitives,  and  steal  whatever  could  be 
found.  The  wives  and  children  of  the  Unionists  were 
robbed  of  horses,  mules,  and  even  personal  attire  and 
small  sums  of  money — all  because  they  were  loyal.  In 
addition  to  that,  they  were  occasionally  abused  coi-po- 
really.  Terrible  threats  were  made  against  them  unless 
they  disclosed  where  certain  property  or  articles  were 
concealed.  Their  barns  and  even  dAVtllings  were  burned 
down  ;  and  in  many  instances  Bushwhackers  have  found 
only  smouldering  embers  or  a  heap  of  ashes  where  they 
looked  for  a  pleasant  home. 

In  Xorth  Carolina  and  Tennessee  I  met  men  who  had 
not  slept  under  their  own  roof  for  two  and  even  three 
years.  All  that  time  they  had  been  "lying  out,"  as  it  is 
termed.  When  there  Avas  no  danger,  they  would  go  to 
theii'  houses  for  an  hour  or  two,  but  would  not  venture 
to  remain  there  overnight. 

If  the  Home-Guards  were  in  the  neighborhood,  or 
approaching,  word  was  sent  immediately  to  the  Bush- 
whackers, or  some  signal  given  which  was  understood. 
Horns  would  be  blown,   cowbells   rung,   peculiar  cries 


UNION  BUSHWHACKERS.  353 

given,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  all  the  Bushwhackers 
in  the  neighborhood  would  be  on  the  wing  towards 
mountain-tops,  caves,  or  some  secure  hiding-place. 

In  the  Union  settlements,  every  one  is  trained  to  be  a 
messenger.  The  children  of  ten  and  twelve  years,  if  they 
see  persons  resembling  the  Guards  or  Rebel  cavalry, 
bear  the  tidings  at  full  speed  to  the  nearest  house,  and 
so  the  intelligence  is  spread  far  and  wide. 

If  there  be  any  number  of  Unionists  compared  to  the 
Rebels,  the  former  give  them  battle ;  and  so  often  have 
they  proved  victorious,  that  tlie  latter  shrink  from  an. 
engagement  unless  in  greatly  superior  force.  Those 
small  lights  are  of  common  occurrence,  and  I  encoun- 
tered many  families  who  had  lost  near  relatives  in  such, 
warfare. 

AMien  the  Rebels  pass  through  a  section  of  country 
favorable  to  bushwhacking,  the  persecuted  loyalists 
profit  by  the  opportunity  of  revenge  to  the  fullest  extent. 
All  may  be  quiet,  and  outwardly  peaceful ;  the  enemy 
will  be  walking  or  riding  down  a  mountain-road,  or 
tlirough  a  gap,  or  past  a  thicket  of  laurel,  when  half  a 
dozen  rifles  will  crack,  and  perhaps  two  or  three  of  his 
squad  be  shot  dead  or  wounded. 

All  men,  however  brave,  have  a  natural  dread  of  being 
attacked  by  a  concealed  foe.  It  is  like  stabbing  in  the 
dark.  The  mystery  and  uncertainty  of  the  character  and 
strength  of  the  assailant  lend  a  horror  to  the  surprise ; 
and  well  disciplined  must  be  the  courage  and  finn  the 
nerves  which  do  not  take  refuge  in  flight. 

The  Bushwhackers  have  not  infrequently  frightened 
away  thrice  their  number.    Many  of  them  have  Spencer, 


354  FOUR  TEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Hemy,  and  other  carbines,  which  discharge  from  six  to 
sixteen  tunes  without  reloading,  giving  the  party  attacked 
a  very  vivid  idea  of  the  strengtli  of  the  attackers. 

In  Wilkes  County,  North  Carolina,  twelve  determined 
Union  men  have  compelled  from  seventy  to  a  hundred 
Guards  to  flight.  And  in  Carter  County,  Tennessee,  they 
tell  a  story  of  a  declaration  by  the  "Confederates"  that 
those  tories  (meaning  loyalists)  have  guns  they  can  wind 
up  Sunday  morning,  and  fire  all  the  week. 

Of  course,  the  Bushwhackers  are  held  in  great  dread. 
The  Eebel  cavalry  are  in  perpetual  fear  of  them,  and 
never  pass  a  turn  in  the  road,  or  by  a  sheltering  rock,  or 
a  heavy  undergrowth,  without  extreme  caution.  The 
breaking  of  a  twig  alarms,  and  the  projection  of  a  branch 
startles  them.  Wliere  there  is  so  miich  fear,  there  must 
be  a  corresponding  hatred.  Alas,  for  the  poor  Bush- 
whacker who  falls  into  Rebel  hands  !  Short  will  be  his 
shriving,  and  speedy  his  exit  from  the  Planet.  His  cap- 
ture is  synonymous  with  his  execution.  He  is  shot 
through  the  head  as  coolly  as  a  bullock  would  be,  and 
probably  before  the  week  is  over,  his  executioner  is  a 
corpse  also. 

The  war  in  the  mountainous  regions  of  the  two  States 
I  have  mentioned  is  a  war  of  extermination,  and  has 
already  become  a  kind  of  Yendetta.  Oaths  of  vengeance 
are  sworn  against  those  who  have  killed  relatives  and 
friends,  and  the  oaths  are  most  bloodily  kept.  A  son 
shoots  a  father,  and  the  son  of  that  father  shoots  the 
father  of  the  first  son.  One  brother  kills  another  brother 
in  an  adjacent  family,  and  in  turn  loses  his  brother  by 
violence.     These  feuds  are  handed  down  season  after 


UNION  BUSHWHACKERS.  355 

season,  and  year  after  year,  as  in  the  medieval  time. 
Life  is  paid  "svitli  life,  and  death  answers  to  death. 

I  remember  meeting  in  Castle  Thunder,  Richmond,  Vir- 
ginia, two  Tennesseans  who  had  vowed  revenge  upon  cer- 
tain parties  in  their  section.  They  obtained  their  freedom 
long  before  I  did  ;  and  when  I  passed  through  the 
neighborhood  where  the  former  captives  resided,  they 
had  redeemed  their  word.  The  men  who  had  wronged 
them  had  ceased  to  live.  They  were  killed  in  their  own 
homes. 

In  Western  North  Carolina,  particularly  in  Wilkes  and 
Watauga,  and  in  the  northern  counties  of  East  Tennessee, 
few  prisoners  are  taken.  The  black  flag  is  ever  raised 
there.  No  quarter  is  given  or  asked  by  the  inhabitants  ; 
and  the  escaped  prisoners  who  travel  in  that  quarter, 
understand  that  "liberty  or  death"  is  no  mere  figure  of 
speech,  but  a  dreadful  reality. 

EveryAvhere  we  were  told  if  we  were  captured  that  we 
would  be  pushed  off  the  precipice  of  Time  very  sum- 
marily, and  doubtless  we  would  have  been.  Had  we 
not  succeeded  in  our  search  after  liberty,  no  one,  I  pre- 
sume, would  have  ever  known  our  fate.  Our  bones 
would  have  whitened  on  some  mountain-side ;  and 
thougli  it  would  have  been  unpleasant  at  the  time, 
we  would  have  rested  as  peacefully  there  as  under  a 
marble  shaft  in  Greenwood. 

One  would  expect  to  find  the  Bushwhackers  fierce, 
cruel  men ;  yet  many  of  them  are  quiet,  though  deter- 
mined— warm-hearted,  but  excitable.  Their  peculiar  life 
has  quickened  all  their  senses,  and  perpetual  anxiety 
and  frequent  alaim   have    given  them  a  certain  wild 


356  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

expression  of  face,  especially  of  the  eye,  that  belongs  to 
hunted  men.  They  are  as  much  attached  to  Northerners, 
as  they  are  opposed  to  the  Reb(4s.  They  received  us 
with  kindness,  and  even  "welcomed  us  to  their  homely 
fare.  They  piloted  us  in  many  places,  and  would  have 
protected  us  at  the  risk  of  their  lives. 

"When  we  had  crossed  the  Yadkin,  and  were  within 
twenty  miles  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  a  party  of  Bushwhackers 
informed  us  we  could  not  get  over  on  account  of  the 
snow  ;  that  we  would  be  tracked  and  murdered.  After 
learning  that,  we  thought  seriously  of  waiting  where  we 
were,  even  until  Summer,  if  necessary,  and  the  generous 
fellows,  poor  as  they  were,  offered  to  take  us  to  their 
dwellings,  and  provide  for  us  as  best  they  could. 

In  Johnson  County,  Tennessee,  we  encountered  a  bevy 
of  Bushwhackers  of  the  most  reckless  character.  One 
da}',  wliile  lying  in  a  barn,  we  heard  a  tremendous 
yelling,  and  soon  discovered  that  it  proceeded  from  three 
of  the  fraternit}^.  Instead  of  remaining  concealed,  they 
were  using  their  lungs  to  the  utmost  to  attract  attention. 
They  defied  the  Rebels,  and  as  they  were  armed  to  the 
teeth,  they  would  have  proved  formidable  foes. 

One  of  the  trio,  known  as  Canada  Guy,  was  a  type  of 
the  most  savage  class.  He  had  been  arrested  as  a  Bush- 
whacker nearly  two  years  before  ;  was  sent  to  Richmond 
to  be  tried  for  several  murders ;  and  yet  contrived  to 
deceive  the  authorities  to  such  an  extent  that  he  was 
ti'ansferred  to  Belle  Isle  as  a  prisoner  of  war,  and  ex- 
changed soon  after. 

Reaching  Annapolis,  Guy  told  the  Provost-Marshal 
he  wished  to  resume  operations  in  Tennessee.     The  Pro- 


UNION  BUSHWHACKERS.  357 

vost  gave  liim  a  certain  sum  of  money,  and  bade  him  go 
on  his  way  rejoicing. 

Guy,  on  his  return,  had  many  old  scores  to  wipe  off ; 
and  the  sole  erasive  compound  he  knew  was  blood.  In 
less  than  six  months  he  killed  seven  men,  all  bitter 
Secessionists,  and  vowed  he  would  not  forego  the  pleas- 
ure of  killing  more  of  the  number  for  any  consideration 
on  earth. 

No  wonder  he  was  ferocious.  The  Rebels  hanged  his 
father,  some  sixty  years  old,  because  he  would  be  loyal 
in  spite  of  threats,  and  shot  four  of  his  brothers.  "But 
ril  be  even  with  them,"  he  exclaimed;  "I'll  kill  at 
least  twenty  for  every  one  of  my  kinsmen."  He  bids 
fair  to  keep  his  word.  He  delights  in  exterminating  the 
Secessionists,  and  his  glee  is  almost  fiendish  at  times. 

I  could  not  sjTiipathize  with,  or  like  such  a  man,  though 
I  doubt  not  his  wrongs  had  rendered  him  the  reckless, 
bloodthirsty  creature  he  was.  Guy  believed  religiously 
that  no  Rebel  had  any  right  to  property  or  life ;  so  he 
robbed  the  enemy  wherever  found,  and  was  only  too 
desirous  of  generating  a  dithculty  that  would  give  him  a 
pretext  for  adding  another  to  his  list  of  victims. 

To  the  Bushwhackers  I  am  indebted  for  many  kind- 
nesses which  I  shall  not  forget.  I  found  in  them  virtues 
that  are  rare  in  civilization,  and  possibilities  of  far  better 
things.  Tliey  have  been  compelled  in  self-defence  to 
take  the  course  they  have  ;  and  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that 
many  of  us  who  have  loftier  aims,  and  larger  culture, 
and  higher  instincts,  would  not  do  worse  if  we  had  been 
so  foully  wronged  as  those  hardy  and  natura'^  -  humane 
mountaineers. 


358  FOUR  YEAES  IN  SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

THE  ESCAPE. 

Our  Efforts  Useless  in  the  Salisbury  Hospital. — Bohemian  Talent  for  Forgery. — 
Mode  of  our  Exodus  from  the  Penitentiary. — Sensations  of  Freedom. — Our 
First  Night  in  a  Barn. — A  Long  Fast. — A  Rebel  Officer  Sound  on  the  Main 
Question. — Commencement  of  the  Journey  toward  Liberty. — Our  First  Two 
Nights'  March. — Hunger,  Cold,  and  Exhaustion. — Our  Assistance  from  the 
Negroes. 

Two  of  my  journalistic  friends  and  myself,  as  soon  as 
the  large  influx  of  Union  soldiers  had  been  made  into  the 
Prison,  entered  the  hospitals,  hoping  to  be  of  some  ser- 
vice to  the  sick.  We  found  tlie  task  extremely  difficult, 
because  there  was  no  co-operation  on  the  part  of  the  au- 
thorities ;  and  the  longer  we  remained,  although  we 
worked  very  hard,  the  more  fruitless  we  perceived  our 
labor.  We  concluded,  therefore,  to  try  another  plan  of  es- 
cape. We  had  been  very  industrious  in  that  way,  for 
months,  at  Salisbury,  but  had  met  with  our  old  ill-fortune. 
The  tunnels  in  which  we  had  been  interested  had  been  ex- 
posed ;  the  schemes  we  had  formed  had  been  frustrated  ; 
the  agencies  on  which  we  had  depended  failed  in  the  mo- 
ment of  need.  We  resolved  thereafter  to  trust  only  Fortune 
and  ourselves,  and  we  prepared  to  make  our  exodus  on 
the  evening  of  Sunday,  December  18. 

Two  of  us  Bohemians— Mr.  William  E.  Davis,  of  the 


THE  ESCAPE.  359 

Cinciiiiiatti  Gazette^  and  myself— had  passes  to  the  Rebel 
hosiiital,  outside  of  the  first  iiiclosure  and  the  first  line  of 
guards,  and  we  spent  an  hour  of  Saturday  night  in  forg- 
ing a  pass  for  my  associate  of  The  Tribune. 

It  "was  my  first  essay  in  that  department  of  the  Fine 
Arts,  and  I  congratulated  myself  I  had  done  well ;  nor 
was  I  without  a  lingering  suspicion  that  if  my  talents  in 
that  direction  had  been  properly  developed,  I  might  have 
been  a  rival  of  Monroe  Edwards.  There  was  this  differ- 
ence, however,  in  his  chirographical  experiments  and 
mine :  his  resulted  in  getting  him  into,  while  mine  were 
designed  to  get  a  friend  out  of,  a  Penitentiary. 

Our  graphical  labors  went  for  naught. 

My  confrere,  the  f(^owing  morning,  concluded  it  wonld 
be  wiser  to  use  my  gfenuine  pass,  and  let  me  trust  to  going 
by  the  sentinel  without  any.  We  agreed  to  that ;  and  so, 
a  little  before  dusk,  the  night  promising  to  be  dark  and 
stormy,  two  of  us  went  out  to  the  Rebel  hospital,  to  wait 
for  the  development  of  events. 

Mr.  Richardson  took  a  box  employed  for  carrying  medi- 
cines, and,  filling  it  with  empty  bottles,  walked  boldly 
up  to  the  guard,  who  stopped  him,  and  asked  if  he  had  a 
pass. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  reply  ;  "you  have  seen  it  often 
enough  ;  have  you  not  ?" 

"  I  do  not  remember,"  responded  the  Rebel.  "  Let  me 
look  at  it." 

It  was  handed  him,  and,  after  scrutinizing  it  carefully, 
he  returned  it  to  Mr.  Richardson,  with  the  remark  that  it 
was  ''all  right." 

My  confrere  walked  out,  and  met,  in  the  second  inclo- 


360  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

sure,  tlie  Adjutant  of  tlie  garrison  and  a  paroled  Rebel  con- 
vict, both  of  wliom  knew  liim  intimately. 

Feeling  that  assurance  alone  would  prevent  suspicion, 
he  accosted  them  both,  exchanged  some  ordinary  remarks 
about  tlie  weather,  and  passed  on. 

A  fourth  prisoner,  Thomas  E.  Wolfe,  captain  of  a  mer- 
chant vessel  taken  by  the  Rebels  off  the  Balize — who 
also  had  a  pass,  and,  just  before  we  started,  had  concluded 
to  try  the  adventure  with  us — was  looking  on,  detennined, 
if  Mr.  Richardson  failed,  to  notify  Mr.  Davis  and  myself, 
that  we  might  be  off  before  the  whole  plan  was  apparent. 

Richardson's  coolness  had  disarmed  suspicion.  He 
walked  quietly  to  a  vacant  office  at  the  end  of  the  hos- 
pital, placed  his  box  and  bottles  the^in,  and  moved  leis- 
urely by  the  guards,  who  were  on  th9l|)arapet  at  his  right, 
to  a  small  out-house,  into  which  he  stepped  for  conceal- 
ment until  it  became  darker. 

Having  loitered  about  the  hospital  as  long  as  it  seemed 
prudent,  I  walked  by  the  guards — who  supposed,  no 
doubt,  we  belonged  to  the  garrison— to  the  outhouse  in 
question. 

There  I  talked  with  Richardson  in  a  low  tone  of  voice, 
and  agreed,  as  it  was  quite  dusk,  to  go  out  to  the  gate  in 
the  fence  skirting  the  road,  and  which  was  unguarded  ; 
and,  if  I  were  discovered,  to  return  to  the  hospital.  K  I 
continued  on,  he  was  to  follow. 

I  started,  and  just  as  I  put  my  hand  on  the  bar  of  the 
gate,  to  force  it  open,  I  felt  it  move  from  the  other  side. 

Our  old  ill-fortune,  I  thouglit.  We  are  discovered,  and 
our  hope  of  freedom  once  more  blighted. 

The  gate  opened,  and  I  was  vastly  relieved  to  see  Mr. 


TUE  ESCAPE.  361 

Davis,  of  the  Gazette,  and  the  Captain.  They  Ibelieved  it 
liardly  dark  enough ;  but  I  pushed  on  across  a  small 
bridge  over  the  railway  ;  having  told  them  I  would  meet 
them  at  the  appointed  place,  on  a  public  road  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  Prison. 

Richardson  followed,  and  in  half  an  hour  we  were  all 
four  together,  lying  down  in  the  rain  in  a  fence  corner. 

While  there,  a  man  crossed  the  field,  and  walked  so 
near  us  that  we  thought  he  would  step  on  us.  We  held 
our  breath,  and  heard  our  hearts  beat,  as  we  had  so  often 
done  before,  believing  we  must  be  discovered.  He  con- 
jectured not  our  presence,  however,  and  walked  off  into 
the  thick  and  all-enshrouding  darkness. 

In  another  hour  we  had  crawled  into  a  bam,  and  were 
lying  under  the  stfaw  and  fodder,  waiting  for  the  next 
night,  when  a  Union  man  had  agreed  to  procure  us  a 
guide,  of  whom  we  stood  in  great  need,  as  not  one  of  our 
party  had  any  knowledge  of  woodcraft,  or  of  the  country 
we  had  to  travel  through. 

Long  shall  I  remember  the  fresh,  free  air  that  greeted 
me  like  a  benison  when  I  stepped  out  of  the  Prison  limits 
on  that  murky,  rainy  evening.  The  old  worn-out  feeling, 
the  inertia,  the  sense  of  suppression,  seemed  to  fall  from 
me  as  a  cast-off  garment ;  and  I  believed  I  could  walk 
to  the  ends  of  the  Earth,  if  I  could  but  find  the  sweet 
goddess  of  Liberty— dearest  and  best  of  women— at  the 
end  of  my  long,  long  journeying. 

To  the  barn,  in  which  we  lay  concealed,  we  were  aware 
a  number  of  small  negroes  came  every  few  hours  of  the 
day  ;  and  it  was  therefore  necessary  for  us  to  keep  very 
still  lest  they  should  discover  and  betray  us,  not  from 


362  FOUE  YEARS  IN  SEOESSIA. 

perfidy,  but  througli  indiscretion.  We  covered  ourselves 
entirely  over  with  tlie  fodder,  and  never  spoke  a  word 
above  our  breath. 

We  were  in  sight  of  the  grim  and  cruel  Prison  where 
we  had  passed  almost  eleven  months  of  anxiety  and 
agony,  and  we  had,  you  may  imagine,  a  most  whole- 
some horror  of  being  taken  back  there  before  we  had 
faii'ly  started  on  our  travels. 

From  the  time  we  escaped,  on  Sunday  evening,  until 
Monday  night,  we  had  not  a  drop  of  water,  and  we  had 
no  food,  save  a  few  broken  mouthfuls,  from  Sunday  noon 
until  Tuesday  evening. 

Yet  we  did  not  seem  to  suffer.  Our  ardor  for  freedom 
was  such  that  it  displaced  all  other  desires,  even  those  of 
a  physical  nature.  We  hardly  knew  we  were  thirsty 
untU  a  Captain  in  the  Rebel  service  gave  us  a  canteen  of 
water,  after  we  quitted  the  barn.  He  had  been  several 
times  wounded,  having  fought  through  nearly  all  the 
great  battles  in  Virginia ;  and  yet  was  a  Union  man  at 
heart.  In  our  presence  he  anathematized  the  Rebels,  and 
expressed  the  pious  wish  that  they  were  all  plunged  so 
deep  in  a  certain  igneous  region  that  even  the  Petro 
leum-seekers  could  not  reach  them.  We  had  become 
acquainted  with  him  while  in  Prison,  and  knew,  when  we 
got  out,  we  could  depend  upon  such  aid  as  it  was  in  his 
power  to  give  us. 

It  no  doubt  seems  anomalous  that  loyal  men  should  be 
in  the  Southern  armies,  and  fight  for  a  cause  in  which  they 
do  not  believe.  Yet  the  instance  of  our  friend  the  Cap- 
tain was  one  of  many. 

Hundreds  of  persons,  at  the  beginning  of  the  troubles, 


THE   ESCAPE.  363 

ruslied  into  the  War,  believing  it  would  be  only  a  kind  of 
parade  of  arms,  with  perhaps  a  few  skirniishes,  followed  by 
a  recognition  of  the  independence  of  the  "Confederacy," 

How  fearfully  they  Avere  deceived,  let  the  mourn- 
ing in  every  Southern  home,  and  the  countless  graves  in 
every  insurgent  State,  from  Virginia  to  Texas,  testily  in 
terror  and  in  tears!  Foiu'  years  of  devastating  conflict 
have  taught  them  the  great  issues  at  stake,  and  the  hope- 
lessness of  the  struggle  ;  the  weakness  and  the  woe,  the 
crime  and  penalty  of  Slavery  ;  and  the  day  has  dawned 
at  last,  when  the  South  will,  for  the  first  time,  be  truly 
free. 

To  resume  :  after  leaving  the  barn  and  repairing  to  the 
place  appointed,  we  met  the  Lieutenant  of  militia  I  have 
mentioned,  and  waited  for  the  guide  who,  he  said,  would 
soon  be  along.  An  hour  or  more  passed,  and  the  guide 
coming  not,  we  concluded  he  had  already  gone  on,  or  had 
failed  to  redeem  his  promise,  and  set  out  upon  our  jour- 
ney, with  "VVilkes  County  as  an  objective  point,  where  a 
number  of  relatives  of  the  Lieutenant  resided,  and  who, 
he  assured  us,  would  welcome  us  Avith  warm  and  loyal 
hearts. 

AVe  went  at  a  rapid  pace  through  two  miles  of  mud  from 
six  to  twelve  inches  deep,  almost  losing  our  boots  often  in 
the  adhesive  loam,  the  blood  bounding  in  our  veins,  and 
the  perspiration  starting  through  oiu-  pores,  until  we 
reached  the  Statesville  and  Morganton  Railway,  which 
we  proposed  to  follow  for  at  least  twenty-five  miles,  and 
then  strike  a  more  Northerly  direction.  * 

We  had  not  gone  more  than  three  miles  before  we 
espied  a  camp  and  a  fire  before  it,  and,  thinldng  they 

24 


364  FOUR  YEARS  IN"  SEOESSIA. 

might  be  pickets,  we  concluded  to  flank  the  locality,  and 
did  so,  but  not  without  much  difficulty.  We  made  a 
wide  circuit  through  the  woods,  and  as  the  niglit  was 
very  dark,  we  fell  over  logs  and  stumps ;  got  into  thorn- 
bushes  and  tore  our  clothes ;  tumbled  into  bogs  and 
ditches ;  had  the  skin  brushed  from  our  noses  and  cheeks, 
and  our  eyes  nearly  put  out  by  sharp  twigs  and  swinging 
branches. 

That  first  flanking  was  truly  amusing  ;  I  could  hear  my 
companions  plunging  over  logs,  and  occasionally  uttering 
expletives  more  forcible  than  orthodox,  as  they  struck 
their  heads  against  trees,  or  had  their  mouths  rudely 
opened  by  an  entering  twig.  Splash,  splash  we  went, 
through  the  AYater  and  mire,  and  then  crackled  through 
the  sodden  leaves  and  dead  branches,  and  then  crept 
noiselessly  by  some  wayside  tenement,  and  then  halted 
with  suspended  breath  at  some  actual  or  imaginary 
sound. 

Whenever  we  observed  a  camp  or  fire  near  the  railway 
we  made  a  flank  movement,  to  the  serious  detriment  of 
our  boots  and  clothes,  and  then  struck  the  road  again, 
thus  vastly  increasing  the  distance  and  time  of  our  jour- 
nejnng.  The  first  night  we  made  only  eleven  miles  in  a 
direct  line — how  much  in  detours,  it  would  be  impossible 
to  conjecture — when  one  of  my  companions  declaring 
himself  utterly  exhausted,  we  endeavored  to  find  a  place 
of  concealment. 

That  was  very  difficult,  as  there  was,  during  the  Win- 
ter, no  undergrowth  to  furnish  a  hiding-place.  We  tried 
haystacks  in  vain.  We  penetrated  into  woods,  and 
could  not  get  out  of  sight.     Everywhere  we  went,  we 


THE  ESCAPE.  365 

found  ourselves  too  near  some  road,  and  the  out-liouses 
too  unsafe. 

AVe  walked  farther  and  farther  from  the  railway, 
through  one  piece  of  timber  and  then  another,  and  yet 
were  ever  likely  to  be  seen  from  the  highways  or  some 
wagon-way. 

At  last  the  early  dawn  had  deepened  into  broad  day. 
We  could  go  no  farther.  We  crept  into  a  pinery  and 
lay  there,  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  from  the  road, 
within  sound  of  the  voices  of  men  at  work,  and  the  bab- 
ble of  children  at  the  farm-house. 

The  day  was  very  raw  and  cold,  but  we  durst  not  light 
a  fire.  So  we  lay  flat  on  the  ground,  never  speaking  in 
other  than  the  lowest  sotto  voce  tone,  shivering,  and  anx- 
ious and  longing  for  the  shades  of  evening. 

I  was  very  thinly  clad,  having  no  other  coat  than  a 
light  blouse  ;  and,  unable  to  move  about  to  start  the  cir- 
culation of  the  blood,  I  suffered  much  from  the  cold,  as 
did  my  companions.  "If  we  are  not  captured  to-day," 
we  said,  "the  Gods  who  have  been  so  long  opposed  must 
be  on  our  side." 

The  welcome  dusk  came  at  last.  No  one  of  those  who 
had  been  in  our  immediate  vicinity  had  seen  us ;  and 
with  glad  hearts  we  Avent  forth,  like  the  beasts  of  prey, 
in  search  of  food..  We  repaired  to  the  quarters  of  the 
slaves  on  an  adjoining  plantation,  and  soon  obtained  a 
promise  from  one  of  them,  if  we  would  go  to  a  barn  on 
the  place,  that  he  would  send  us  food.  Before  this  time 
a  chilly,  penetrating  rain  had  begun  to  descend,  and  as 
we  were  quite  wet,  a  roof  was  very  acceptable. 
Tlie  master  of  the  plantation  had  company  that  night, 


366  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

and  consequently  vre  were  compelled  to  vrait  until  nearly 
midnight  before  we  obtained  any  provisions.  We  did 
not  know  bow  hungry  we  were  until  a  liberal  sup- 
ply of  corn  bread  and  bacon  was  handed  lis  by  the 
negro. 

Those  are  means  of  sustenance  I  naturally  abhor ;  but  no 
Fifth  Avenue  dinner,  however  recherche,  ever  pleased 
my  palate  so  much  as  those  Southern  staples.  AYhen  we 
were  ready  to  resume  our  march,  a  negro  offered  to  guide 
us  back  to  the  railway ;  and  we  set  forth  in  a  driving, 
drenching  storm,  through  such  a  pall-like  darkness,  that 
we  could  not  see  the  nearest  object.  "We  walked  in  what 
is  known  as  Indian  file,  sometimes  one  leading,  and  some- 
times another,  with  preconcerted  signals  for  doubt,  dan- 
ger, and  recognition. 

When  our  leader  paused  we  stopped,  and  a  motion  of 
the  hand,  if  it  were  light  enough  to  see,  or,  if  it  were  not, 
a  low  "hush  !"  brought  us  to  an  instantaneous  halt.  If 
we  were  scattered,  a  sudden  quick  cough  was  the  sign  of 
recognition,  and  a  low  whistle,  in  imitation  of  a  night- 
bird,  brought  us  together. 

Through  that  tempestuous  night  we  marched  wearily 
on,  our  clothes  dripping,  like  a  jealous  woman's  eyes 
when  the  storm  is  subsiding,  and  running  into  our  boots, 
until  they  were  full  of  water.  Harder  and  harder  the 
rain  fell,  and  colder  and  colder  it  grew. 

We  were  chilled  from  head  to  heel,  and  our  saturated 
garments  became  a  burden,  chafing  our  limbs  and  clog- 
ging our  steps. 

How  often  I  thought  of  the  line  of  Shakspeare  about 
"biding  the  peltings  of  this  pitiless  storm,"  and  marveled 


THE  ESCAPE.  367 

if  even   old  Lear    had   encountered  a  rougher  and   a 
drearier  night. 

There  were  a  number  of  cattle-guards  and  pits  along 
the  road,  filled  with  mire  and  water ;  and  as  we  liad  to 
walk  over  .them  on  the  rails,  the  condition  of  our  boots 
and  clothes,  added  to  our  chilliness  and  fatigue,  made  our 
pace  unsteady,  and  frequently  we  fell,  waist-deep,  into 
those  turbid  and  ungrateful  baths. 

Tlie  ties,  too,  were  slippery,  and  often  we  lost  our 
equilibrium,  and  wounded  our  weary  and  paining  feet. 
Tlie  sea-Captain  badly  sprained  his  foot,  and  could  barely 
hobble  along ;  occasionally  requiring  our  support  for  a 
mile  or  two. 

One  of  the  greatest  sources  of  our  anxiety  was  the  fear 
of  a  sprain,  or  some  manner  of  maiming,  knowing  that 
such  an  accident  must  greatly  diminish  our  prospect  of 
freedom.  In  the  superlative  darkness,  and  in  a  region 
entirely  unknown,  we  wer^  liable  at  any  moment  to  make 
a  misstep  that  would  place  us  beyond  the  power  of 
marching*  farther.  How  we  prayed,  in  our  Bohemian 
way,  for  sound  feet  and  strong  limbs,  for  continued  health 
and  the  favor  of  Fortune. 

The  negro  who  had  guided  us  to  the  railway  had  told 
us  of  another  of  his  color  to  whom  we  could  apply  for 
shelter  and  food  at  the  terminus  of  our  second  stage. 
Him  we  could  not  find  until  nearly  dawn,  and  when  we 
did,  he  directed  iis  to  a  large  barn  filled  with  wet  corn- 
husks. 

Into  that  we  crept  with  our  dripping  garments,  and  lay 
there  for  fifteen  hours,  until  we  could  again  venture 
forth.     Floundering  about  in  the  husks,   we  lost  our 


368  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

haversacks,  pipes,  and  a  liat  that  belonged  to  the 
speaker,  and  deprived  of  which,  he  was,  indeed,  uncov- 
ered. 

About  nine  o'clock  we  procured  a  hearty  supper  from 
the  generous  negro,  who  even  gave  me  his  unique  head- 
covering — an  appropriate  presentation,  as  one  of  my  com- 
panions remarked,  by  an  "intelligent  contraband''  to  the 
"reliable  gentleman"  of  The  'N.  Y.  Tribune — and  did 
picket-duty  while  we  hastily  ate  our  meal  and  stood 
against  his  blazing  fire.  The  old  African  and  his  wife 
gave  us  "God  bless  you,  massas  I"  Avith  trembling  voice 
and  moistened  eyes,  as  we  parted  from  them  with  grateful 
hearts. 

"God  bless  the  negroes!"  say  I,  with  earnest  lips. 
During  our  entire  captivity,  and  after  our  escape,  they 
were  ever  our  firm,  brave,  unfliucliing  friends.  We 
never  made  an  appeal  to  them  they  did  not  answer.  Tliey 
never  hesitated  to  do  us  a  service  at  the  risk  even  of  life, 
and  under  the  most  trying  circumstances  revealed  a  de- 
votion and  a  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  that  were  heroic.  The 
magic  word  "Yankee"  opened  all  their  hearts,  and 
elicited  the  loftiest  virtues.  They  were  ignorant,  op- 
pressed, enslaved ;  but  they  always  cherished  a  simple 
and  beautiful  faith  in  the  cause  of  the  Union  and  its 
ultimate  triumph,  and  never  abandoned  or  turned  aside 
from  a  man  who  sought  food  or  shelter  on  his  way  to 
Freedom. 


THE   MAKCII   TO   FIIEEDOM.  369 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE   MARCH  TO   FREEDOM. 

The  Third,  Fourth,  and  Fifth  Nights  Out.— Missing  the  Road.— Extremely  Cold 
Weather. — Our  Sufferings  in  a  Barn. — The  Slaves  our  Faithful  Friends. — 
Torture  of  the  Boot  Revived. — Our  Pursuit  and  Masterly  Retreat. — Our  Re- 
enforcement  with  Mules  and  Whisky. — Incidents  along  the  Route. — Arrival 
in  Wilkes  County. 

A  New  HAatPSHiRE  soldier,  Charles  Thurston,  a  ser- 
geant of  the  Sixth  regiment,  had  joined  us  before  we  left 
Salisbury.  He  had  been  a  fellow-conspirator  for  many 
weeks,  and  had  been  goiag  out  with  us  through  various 
tunnels  ;  but  when  they  were  all  exposed,  we  were  com- 
pelled to  resort  to  some  other  mode  of  exodus.  Having 
heard  privately  that  we  had  gone,'on  Sunday  night,  he 
managed  to  slip  out  of  the  hospital  bakery,  where  he 
was  emplo3^ed,  beliind  one  of  the  Prison  Detectives, 
about  four  hours  after  our  escape,  and  get  into  the  town 
unobserved. 

Our  party  then  consisted  of  five,  and  we  continued  our 
march  on  the  railway  in  better  condition,  having  gotten 
our  clothes  partially  dry,  and  satisfied  our  hunger.  That 
was  our  third  night,  and  we  were  only  seventeen  miles 
from  Salisbury.  We  were  desirous  to  go  nearly  to 
Statesville — eight  miles  to  the  west — and  then,  flanking 
the  town,   move  in  a   northwesterly  direction   toward 


370  FOUR  YEARS   IN  SECESSIA. 

Wilkes  Count}'.  We  had  "been  directed  by  the  negro,  at 
the  last  stopping-place,  to  Allison' s  Mill,  which  Avas  to 
be  our  guide  in  the  way  we  wanted  to  go.  We  flanked 
Statesville,  and  found  Allison's  Mill,  which  proved  after- 
ward to  be  the  wrong  one— we  had  not  been  told  there 
were  two — and  therefore  missed  the  road  entirely. 

We  knew  not  where  we  were  going,  but  we  took  first 
one  road  and  then  another  ;  marching  very  rapidly,  as  we 
needed  to  do,  for  the  wind  had  veered  round  to  the  North, 
and  the  night  liad  grown  very  cold.  We  climbed  fences, 
examined  haystacks  and  dilapidated  cabins,  but  found 
no  negro  tenements,  nor  any  place  where  we  could  staj'- 
without  danger  of  freezing. 

Our  limbs  became  stiff  and  our  lips  blue  when  we 
paused  ;  and  as  we  were  afraid  to  light  a  fire,  we  went  on 
in  the  teeth  of  the  biting  wind,  until  the  tears  streamed 
from  our  eyes,  and  our  faces  and  hands  and  feet  were 
like  ice. 

It  was  nearl}^  dawn  whon  we  desT;ried,  by  the  light  of 
the  moon,  a  plantaticfii  at  a  distance.  One  of  us  went  to 
the  negro  quarters,  and  returned  with  the  information 
that  we  could  go  to  a  large  barn  near  by,  and  cover  our- 
selves with  hay  until  the  principal  house-servant  had  an 
opportunity  to  bring  us  food. 

All  five  of  us  climbed  into  the  barn,  built  of  logs  piled 
"cob-house"  fashion,  and  consequently  very  cold;  the 
wind  driving  tlirough  the  open  spaces,  and  chilling  us 
through  and  through.  We  buried  ourselves  completely 
in  the  hay  ;  but  there  was  no  possibility  of  getting  warm. 
I  shivered  against  Mt.  Richardson' s  side,  and  he  against 
mine.     We  put  our  arms  around  each  other,  and  snug- 


THE   MAllCII   TO   FREEDOM.  371 

glod  u}-*,  as  cliildren  sa}^,  to  no  purpose.  We  tliouglit 
vre  would  ffeeze  to  death  if  we  fell  asleep  ;  so  we  crawled 
out  of  tlie  hay,  and  began  moving  about  in  the  loft,  and 
soon  induced  our  companions  to  come  out  also.  We 
were  still  very  cold,  l)ut  Ave  suffered  less  than  we  had 
done,  because  our  blood  circulated  more. 

About  eleven  o'  clock  the  negro  came  to  us  with  a  bas- 
ket of  pork  and  corn-bread,  which  we  ate  Avith  great 
relish.  He  was  delighted  to  see  us,  and  was  very  inteL 
ligent,  having  been  a  servant  to  a  Rebel  ofTict-r  in  tlie 
field.  He  said  his  master  was  a  violent  Secessionist,  and 
woiild  kill  him,  and  us  too,  if  he  knew  we  were  there ; 
but  that  he  was  not  afraid.  He  had  helped  the  Yankees 
before,  and  would  help  them  again. 

After  dark  the  negro  took  us  to  his  cabin,  gave  us  our 
supper,  and  let  us  thaw  before  his  fire,  guided  us  to  fJie 
Allison's  Mill — when  we  learned  we  had  walked  about 
fifteen  miles  and  accomplished  only  half  a  mile  in  the 
right  direction — and  there  told  us  what  road  to  follow, 
piloting  us  a  mile  and  a  half  on  our  way. 

When  I  escaped  I  had  been  compelled  to  wear  a  very 
large,  coarse,  stift'  pair  of  boots — the  sole  ones  I  could 
procure  in  the  Prison — which  I  could  keep  on  only 
because  they  were  tight  across  the  instep  and  around  the 
ankles.  They  tortured  me  at  every  step,  and  wore  holes 
in  my  ankles  that  resembled  wounds  from  buck-shot ; 
while  their  weight  and  clumsiness  tired  mt?  greatly,  and 
made  me  stumble  as  if  I  were  intoxicated.  They 
had  become  soaking  wet  again  and  again,  and  frozen  on 
my  feet,  so  that  they  were  like  wooden  shoes,  entirely 
without  elasticity  or  power  of  expansion.     Mr.  Richard- 


372  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

son's  foot-coverings  vrere  very  mucli  of  tlie  same  kiiid  ; 
and  as  we  niarclied  along  tlirough  the  darkness  over  the 
rough  and  broken  ground,  it  -vvas  "with  great  difficulty  we 
could  often  suj)press  cries  of  pain.  When  we  slipped, 
or  stepped  into  ruts,  our  feet  were  wrenched  as  if  they 
TV^ere  in  a  vice  ;  and  still  we  had  but  begun  our  march  of 
four  hundred  miles  ;  and  the  most  arduous  and  toilsome 
part  Avas  yet  to  come. 

^  What  were  boots,  or  pain,  or  cold,  or  hardship,  com- 
pared to  freedom  \ 

We  marched  on  through  the  moonless  night  until  we 
reached  Rocky  Creek,  in  Rowan  County,  where  we 
paused,  very  cold  and  fatigued,  and  built  a  fire — we  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  supply  ourselves  with  matches — 
in  an  adjacent  pinery.  There  we  warmed  ourselves  as 
well  as  we  could,  and  about  four  o'clock  Friday  morn- 
ing, crossed  the  creek  on  a  log  on  our  hands  and  knees  ; 
the  frost  having  made  it  so  slippery  there  was  no  secu- 
rity in  walking. 

We  then  struck  a  dirt  road  going  from  Statesville  to 
Jonesville  ;  and  about  six  o'clock  began  to  think  we 
were  off  the  direct  route. 

Sergeant  Thurston  determined  to  apply  for  information 
at  a  house  standing  at  the  forks  of  the  road,  and  did  so. 
When  he  returned,  we  concluded  the  man  he  had  seen 
was  a  Rebel,  and  might  raise  the  dogs,  old  men,  and  boys, 
armed  with  rifles  and  shot-guns,  and  hunt  us  down,  as  is 
the  custom  in  Secessia. 

Our  conclusion  was  correct. 

When  daylight  came,  one  of  us  perceived  the  old  fel- 
low following  us,  and  the  Sergeant  ran  back  toward 


THE   MAKCIl   TO  FKEEDOM.  373 

"him  in  a  threatening  manner  tliat  frightened  him  into  a 
rapid  retn>at.  "We  liad  no  fear  of  him  alone,  "but  appre- 
hended that  he  -woukl  excite  an  alarm,  and  bring  the 
whole  hnman  and  canine  neighborhood  upon  us. 

Wo  thought  we  were  so  tired  we  could  go  no  farther  ; 
but  tht^  prospect  of  pursuit  so  strengthened  our  limbs 
that  we  started  upon  a  run ;  darting  into  woods,  over 
fences,  through  quagmires ;  crossing  and  re-crossing 
fields  ;  moving  to  every  point  of  the  compass  so  rapidly 
that  an  African  blood-hound  would  have  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  scent  out  our  progress. 

At  last  we  paused,  about  nine  o'clock,  in  a  pinery,  and 
soon  had  a  blazing  fire  of  dry  wood,  which  caused  very 
little  smoke.  We  would  not  have  made  the  fire,  but,  as 
we  were  freezing,  it  was  a  military  necessity.  "We  were 
quite  anxious  all  day  ;  but  we  heard  and  saw  nothing 
that  led  us  to  believe  we  were  pursued.  If  we  were, 
our  pursuers  must  have  lost  the  trail,  which  would  not 
have  been  singular,  as  Ave  were  at  least  two  miles  from 
any  road  or  even  footpath,  so  far  as  we  coidd  determine. 

We  then  concluded  that  another  night"  s  march  would 
take  us  to  the  settlement  in  Wilkes  County,  to  which  the 
Lieutenant  of  militia  had  directed.  Then  I  first  began  to 
have  some  well-defined  hopt^that  we  would  get  through. 

When  I  escaped,  I  did  so  on  principle,  trusting  that  we 
might  at  least  be  out  a  week,  or  possibly  two,  and  be- 
lieving if  we  were  shot  we  would  have  the  satisfaction  of 
dying  in  the  laudable  efibrt  to  obtain  our  freedom,  as  be- 
came American  citizens. 

We  had  but  fifteen  miles  further  to  go  before  we  should 
find  a  ha^'cn  of  rest,  wliich  we  sorely  needrd.     We  re- 


374  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

sumed  our  march  in  excellent  spirits,  though  greatly 
worn  and  exhausted  ;  and  no  wonder,  as  we  had  been  un- 
able to  sleep  more  than  a  few  minutes  at  a  time,  on  ac- 
count of  the  cold.  Indeed,  I  do  not  know  that  I  had  lost 
my  consciousness  after  our  exodus  from  the  Penitentiary. 

I  struck  out  boldly,  however,  and  summoned  all  my 
will.  The  miles  seemed  endless,  and  every  step  increased 
my  fatigue. 

At  last  I  was  forced  to  lean  on  my  confrere's  arm,  as  he 
had  done  on  mine  the  first  night  out.  My  breath  was  short 
and  hot,  my  head  was  heavy,  and  my  limbs  trembled. 

My  associate  insisted  upon  it  that  I  was  on  the  eve  of. 
a  severe  typhoid  fever. 

I  knew  I  merely  wanted  rest.  He  urged  me  to  stop  at 
a  way-side  public-house,  the  only  one  we  encountered  in 
all  our  journey,  and  said  he  would  remain  Avith  me.  I 
would  not  consent,  fearing  my  doing  so  would  endanger 
the  whole  party.  Therefore  I  endeavored  to  go  on,  tell- 
ing my  comj)anions  to  leave  me  if  I  failed.  To  that  they 
would  not  agree.  Mr.  Kichardson,  with  characteristic 
generosity,  declared  he  would  not  separate  from  me. 

At  the  public  house,  or  shanty  rather,  we  procured 
some  food,  and  learned  to  our  satisfaction  that  the  pro- 
prietor Avas  a  Unionist.  Hearing  we  were  all  greatly  fa- 
tigued, he  offered  for  a'  certain  sum — and  we  had  abun- 
dance of  money  in  our  party — to  loan  us  two  mules  to  help 
us  onward. 

We  accepted  his  proposition,  and  Captain  Wolfe,  still 
suffering  from  his  sprain,  and  mj^self,  mounted  the  ani- 
mals. Their  equipments  were  very  inferior.  My  mule  was 
saddleless,  and  the  sharp  backbone  almost  bisected  me, 


THE   MAKCU   TO   FREEDOM.  375 

wliile  my  legs  pained  me  excessively,  and  seemed  as  if 
they  would  part  company  with  my  body. 

After  proceeding  two  or  three  miles,  we  halted  at  a 
cabin  to  get  two  or  three  more  mules,  and  wliile  there  the 
host  pressed  us  to  drink  some  whisk}\  The  distillation 
of  corn  is  very  repulsive  to  me  ;  but  I  thought  it  might 
give  me  temporary  strength,  and  I  swallowed  a  large 
quantity  before  we  resumed  our  journey.  It  improved 
my  condition  at  first ;  but  very  soon  I  began  to  grow  very 
ill.  Tlie  liquor  had  nauseated  me,  and  for  three  hours  I 
swayed  from  side  to  side,  and  resembled  Vesuvius  in  a 
constant  state  of  eruption. 

Jove  !  but  I  was  sick  ;  I  almost  lost  my  senses.  Every 
atom  of  my  frame  ached.  It  seemed  as  if  I  would  fall  to 
pieces.  Hiding  on  that  mule  was  purgatorial.  I  dis- 
mounted, and  stumbled  over  the  road. 

Finally,  we  reached  the  vicinity  of  the  settlement  in 
Wilkes  County.  We  parted  with  our  mule-owners,  and 
Mr.  Richardson  went  in  quest  of  the  Lieutenant' smother, 
leaving  me  lying  on  the  ground,  begging  to  be  let  alone. 
He  returned  after  a  long  search,  and  half  supported,  half 
carried  me,  with  genuine  tenderness,  to  the  cabin  where 
the  good  woman  lived. 

There  the  other  three  preceded  me,  and  were  leaning 
against  the  chimney  corner  fast  asleep.  I  was  soon  un- 
dressed, and  in  a  soft,  wami  bed. 

What  a  luxury  it  was,  after  twenty  months  of  lying  on 
hard  floors  and  rude  bunks  !  Hardly  had  my  head 
touched  the  pillow  before  I  lapsed  into  a  slumber  as 
sweet  and  deep  as  if  I  lay  a  child  again  upon  my  mother's 
bosom. 


376  FOUR  YEARS  m  SECESSIA. 

In  four  hours  I  awoke,  entirely  refreshed  and  healed,  to 
find  my  associate  by  my  bedside,  with  a  cup  of  rye  coffee 
and  a  plate  of  fritters  in  his  hand,  asking  me  to  eat  some- 
thing. I  had  a  good  appetite,  and  gratified  it,  and  went 
to  bed  again,  to  sleep  once  more  a  dreamless  and  delicious 
sleep. 


THE  UAVEN   OF   PwEST.  377 


CHAPTER  L. 

THE  HAVEN   OF   EEST. 

The  Union  Settlement  in  T\'ilkcs  County. — Freqncnt  Cliangc  of  Base. — Christmas 
Spent  in  a  Barn. — Ghostly  Marches. — Alarms  and  Adventures  in  Yadkin 
County. — A  Bohemian  Model  Artist. — An  Eventful  Night. — Storm  and  Senti- 
ment.— Love-Making  in  a  Tempest. — Parting  with  our  Loyal  Friends. — Their 
Devotion  and  Regret. — Battles  between  Unionists  and  Rebel  Home  Guards. — 
Inextinguishable  FideUty  of  the  People. 

The  settlement  we  had  reached  was  chiefly  composed 
of  relatives  of  the  loyal  Lieutenant,  who  gave  us  a  most 
cordial  and  generous  welcome.  They  could  not  do  enough 
for  us — some  of  them  had  never  seen  a  "  Yankee"  iDefore 
— and  they  were  delighted  to  meet  us.  They  were  very 
demonstrative,  and  asked  us  morp  questions  in  a  minute 
than  we  could  answer  in  a  day. 

Though  entire  strangers,  we  were  regarded  from  the 
first  as  their  dearest  friends.  Men,  women,  and  children 
were  anxious  to  serve  us  ;  and  we  felt,  indeed,  as  if  our 
lines  had  fallen  in  pleasant  places.  They  offered  us  their 
fulh'st  store,  and  would  have  given  us  half  of  what  they 
possessed  if  we  had  needed  it. 

More  kindness,  affection,  devotion,  I  have  never  seen. 
Those  noble-hearted  people— for  the  most  part  poor- 
gave  me  a  higher  idea  of  humanity  ;  and  their  efforts  in 
our  behalf,  and  their  spirit  of  sacrifice,  filled  me  with  the 


378  rOUR  YEARS  IN   SECESSIA. 

deepest  sense  of  gratitude,  wliicti  I  long  for  an  opportu- 
nity to  display  in  something  more  than  words. 

The  loyal  Lieutenant  had  requested  us  to  tarry  in  the 
settlement  for  two  or  three  days,  and  he  would  join  our 
party  and  go  through  Tpith  us  to  our  lines. 

The  evening  of  the  day — Saturday,  December  24 — we 

arrived  in  the  county,  we  left  Mrs.  's  house,  and 

repaired  to  the  barn,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant, 
of  a  relative  of  the  family,  for  increased  security,  and 
from  unwillingness  to  jeopardize  the  good  peopl(5  who 
so  generously  sheltered  us.  We  remained  there  that 
night  and  the  next  day  (Christmas),  when  a  number  of 
men  and  women  visited  us  to  congratulate  us  on  our  es- 
cape, and  to  assure  us  of  their  unswerving  fidelity,  of 
which  we  had  no  doubt. 

Christmas  night,  one  of  our  friends  told  us  it  had  been 
whispered  about  that  there  were  five  Yankees  in  the  set- 
tlement ;  and,  fearing  the  Rebel  Home  Guards  might  be 
apprised  of  the  fact,  deemed  it  prudent  to  remove  us  to 
the  adjoining  County ^of  Yadkin,  where  the  wife  of  the 
Lieutenant  resided. 

Under  the  man's  guidance  we  walked  through  the 
woods  by  by-paths  to  the  new  place  of  shelter,  a  distance 
of  four  or  five  miles.  The  night  was  dark  as  Egypt,  and 
we  moved  along  as  cautiously  and  noiselessl}^  as  if  we 
stepped  about  the  couch  of  our  dying  mistress. 

We  called  those  nocturnal  journeys  the  marches  of 
death.  We  spoke  not  a  syllable ;  we  suppressed  our 
breath,  and  moved  as  lightly  as  if  our  life  depended — 
and  perhaps  it  did — upon  our  perfect  quietude. 

Not  a  twig    broke    beneath    our    careful    feet.     The 


THE  HAVEN  OF  REST.  379 

silence  was  almost  painful  in  its  impressiveness.  The 
stirring  of  the  dry  leaves,  as  tlie  wind  swept  through, 
them,  sounded  loudly  to  our  strained  ears.  Every  sense 
was  on  the  rack  of  apprehension  ;  every  nerve  at  its 
highest  tension.  We  seemed  like  unquiet  ghosts  as  we 
stalked  along— disembodied  spirits  wandering  on  the 
Stygian  sliore. 

In  an  hour  and  a  half  we  reached  the  desired  habita- 
tion, and  the  same  generous  welcome  greeted  us  as  before. 
The  wife  of  the  Lieutenant  assured  us  we  would  not  en- 
danger her  home  by  resting  beneath  her  humble  roof,, 
and  that  night  we  lay  in  comfortable  beds.  She  was  a, 
native  of  Yii-ginia,  an  intelligent,  calm,  brave,  quick- 
witted woman,  fruitful  in  expedients  and  resources. 

In  the  morning  her  children,  two  of  them  little  girls  of' 
four  and  six  years,  stood  picket  while  their  mother  and 
theh-  elder  sister  prepared  our  breakfast. 

Strange  and  thorough  teachers  are  danger  and  devo- 
tion. Those  children,  as  all  others  we  met,  were  un- 
naturally developed  ;  their  senses  acute  ;  their  secretive- 
ness  perfect ;  their  self-possession  complete.  We  could 
trust  them  as  we  could  matured  persons.  We  had 
no  fear  of  their  indiscretion  :  we  relied  on  them  fully. 
Custom  and  order  were  reversed.  Strong,  self-reliant 
men  who  had  passed  two  years  in  the  field,  who  had 
often  looked  death  in  the  face,  who  had  stood  by  count- 
less couches  of  suffering  and  death,  to  aid,  to  comfort,  and 
console,  were  protected  by,  and  leaned  on,  women  and 
children.  They  could  do  for  us  what  our  own  sex  could 
not,  and  they  did* it  with  a  silent  and  unconscious, 
heroism  that  made  it  all  the  more  beautiful. 


380  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Soon  after  breakfast  a  squad  of  Breckinridge's  cavalry 
were  reported  coming  up  the  road — the  house  stood  at  the 
roadside — and  we  were  advised  to  conceal  ourselves 
under  the  beds.  We  were  not  long  in  taking  our  posi- 
tions, and  then  the  Lieutenant's  wife  went  out  on  the 
porch  with  an  unconcerned  air.  The  cavalry  men  stopped, 
and  sh(^  talked  to  them  in  a* quiet,  easy  way,  wdl  calcu- 
lated to  disarm  suspicion,  if  any  had  been  excited.  Tlicjy^ 
did  not  enter  the  dwelling,  as  we  feared,  and  after  a  few 
minutes  rode  on. 

She  then  called  us  to  come  out,  saying,  "All  is  safe, 
boys."  But  we  had  hardly  assumed  an  erect  position 
when  several  suspicious-looking  characters  were  an- 
nounced, and  again  we  crept  under  the  beds.  Some -of 
our  party  ma}^  have  been  compelled  to  indulge  in  that 
Idnd  of  thing  before  ;  but  I  conjecture.it  was  under  very 
different  circumstances. 

The  pui-suit  of  gallantry  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
recreation  there  ;  and  I  confess  I  did  not  like  it  altogether, 
although  it  was  for  the  sake  of  that  dear  woman  who 
holds  the  shield  of  the  Republic,  and  wears  the  garment 
embroidered  with  stars. 

The  precaution  was  unnecessary  that  time.  The  suspi- 
cious-looking characters  proved  to  be  rude  liinds  who 
went  quietly  by  the  dwelling. 

Once  more  we  went  forth  in  a  vertical  form,  ascended 
to  the  corn-loft  and  removed  our  clothes — for  what  pur- 
pose, those  who  have  been  in  Rebel  Prisons  need  not  be 
told.  I  was  still  lingering  over  my  poetic  toil  when  two 
tithe-officers  knocked  at  the  door,  to  collect  their  dues  in 
corn. 


THE  HA  YEN   OF  REST.  381 

Mr.  Davis  cried  out:  "ITurry,  Junius,  those  men  are 
coming  up !''  and  immediately  darted  below.  Poor  me  ! 
But  a  single  garment  graced  my  slender  form  at  that  junc- 
ture, and,  seizing  the  remainder  of  my  wardrobe,  I  rushed 
into  the  apartment  we  had  quitted  a  few  moments  before. 
There  I  found  the  kind-hearted  woman,  who  a  third  time 
told  us  to  get  under  the  bed. 

My  companions  laughed  at  my  costume  ;  but  I  declared 
with  imperturbable  sang-froid  tliat  I  did  not  care. 

My  feminine  friend  smiled,  and  very  sensibly  remarked 
that  it  made  no  difference  whatever  ;  that  such  things 
would  happen  sometimes ;  and  that  she  had  seen  men  in 
that  guise  before,  which,  as  she  was  the  mother  of  four 
children,  is  not  at  all  improbable. 

The  same  night,  Monday,  we  concluded  that  Yadkin 
County  was  not  as  safe  as  it  might  be,  judging  from  our 
single  day's  experience  in  it;  so  we  marched  back,  the 
same  dark,  silent,  breath-bated  march  as  before,  to 
Wilkes  County,  and  the  friendly  barn  we  had  quitted. 
"We  lay  there  concealed  in  the  corn-husks  and  hay  until 
Tuesday  evening.  Then  we  heard  the  guards  were 
searching  for  us,  and  we  divided;  three  going  to  the 
habitation  of  the  Lieutenant's  mother,  and  two  to  his 
sister' s, 

AYednesday  morning,  while  at  breakfast,  two  men  en- 
tered the  cabin,  taking  us  by  surprise.  The  dog  on 
which  Ave  had  depended  had  gone  away,  and  therefore 
the  strangers  came  unannounced. 

Tliere  was  no  means  of  retreat,  as  the  cabin  had  but  one 
door,  and  we  knew  our  greatest  safety  would  be  in  a 
calm  manner.     We  continued  our  humble  meal,  therefore, 


1 

t 

382  ■    FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

very  deliberately  and  unconcernedly,  and  at  its  close 
"were  not  displeased  to  learn  the  strangers  were  deserters 
from  the  Rebel  army,  and  entirely  tiiistworthy. 

The  day  we  spent  in  a  bam,  and  at  night  we  returned 
to  the  cabin.  We  were  at  supper  when  a  low  whistle 
was  heard  outside,  indicating  a  surprise,  perhaps  a  sur- 
^rounding  oT  the  house  by  the  enemy,  with  the  intention 
of  shooting  down  whoever  attempted  to  escape — the 
custom  in  that  section  of  country. 

The  wife  and  her  adopted  daughter,  a  girl  of  sixteen  or 
seventeen — we  will  call  her  Lucy — were  greatly  alarmed. 
They  threw  assies  on  the  burning  logs  in  great  haste,  to 
extinguish  the  glare  of  the  fire,  and  told  us  to  get  under 
the  bed  and  to  go  out  of  the  door  at  the  same  time.  We 
chose  the  latter,  and  out  we  dashed  into  the  dark  and 
stonny  night,  more  than  half  expecting  to  be  greeted 
with  several  rifle-flashes  as  we  emerged  from  the  dwelling. 

A  minute  after  I  felt  some  one  clinging  to  my  arm,  and 
a  voice  saying,  in  a  suppressed  tone ;  "  Come  this  way !" 
I  could  hardly  see  the  face,  it  was  so  dark,  but  I  knew  it 
was  the  black-eyed,  black-haired,  intensely  loyal  Lucy, 
who  took  as  much  interest  in  our  welfare  as  if  we  were 
lovers  and  brothers  combined. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  my  dear  child  ?"  I  inquired 
whisperingly.  "  Why  don't  you  go  in  out  of  the  storm, 
and  let  me  care  for  myself?" 

"  O,  I  want  to  stay  with  you,"  she  answered  earnestly. 
"  Do  come  with  me.  I  will  show  you  where  to  hide.  I 
wouldn't  have  any  thing  happen  to  you  for  the  world. 
I'd  rather  die  than  have  harm  come  to  you." 

Poor  girl !    Her  appeal  was  resistless.     I  forgot  the 


TDE   HAVEN  OF  REST.  383 

danger  of  the  situation  in  my  y'lty  and  regard  for  her. 
Her  voice  and  manner  had  touched  even  my  worn-out 
heart. 

Tlie  rain  Avas  falling  in  torrents,  and  the  thunder  bel- 
lowing through  the  sable  vault  overhead  ;  but  still  Lucy 
clung  to  my  arm.  The  other,  disengaged,  I  threw  about 
lit^-  waist— a  taper  one,  even  though  she  had  always  lived 
in  North  Carolina,  and  had  never  worn  a  corset — and 
drawing  her  jDlump  figure  to  my  bosom,  kissed  her  long 
and  closelj' — more  for  gratitude  than  gallantry,  more  from 
a  sense  of  duty  than  aifection  ;  and  yet  duty  just  at  that 
moment  appeared  not  disagreeable}  to  discharge. 

The  sensation  was  not  unpleasant  to  me. 

I  do  not  believe  it  would  have  been  to  any  man  who 
had  not  touched  a  woman's  lips  for  at  least  two  years. 

In  the  midst  of  that  rather  sentimental  scene  we  learned 
'  that  the  whistle  we  had  heard  proceeded  from  a  Rebel 
deserter  who  had  come  to  the  house  to  see  Lucy — she 
said  she  lilved  him  because  he  had  shot  two  Home  Guards  ; 
'  but  as  a  man  he  was  not  agreeable  to  her — and  who  had 
given  the  signal,  fearing  the  masculines  voices  he  had  heard 
inside  might  be  those  o^  enemies. 

In  less  than  an  hour  we  had  another  alarm,  and  once 
more  we  ran  out  into  the  rain;  but  that  alarm  was  also 
causeless,  and  returning  to  the  cabin,  we  went  to* bed— 
the  members  of  the  family  and  ourselves  all  in  one  room, 
which  was  indeed  the  whole  house. 

I  slept  quite  well,  and  dreamed  that  Lucy  was  a 
princess  in  disguise,  who  introduced  me  to  a  black- robed 
magician,  that  furnislied  us  with  a  winged  dragon, .  that 
mounted,  with  us  on  his  back,  and  flew  away  to  'New 


384  •     FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

York,  and  set  us  down  to  an  elegant  supper  at  the  Maison 
Doree.. 

About  tliat  time  I  awoke,  and  Lucy  was  sitting  de- 
murely in  the  chimney  corner,  jjreparing  our  plain  break- 
fast before  tha  'fire.  So  Lucy  was  no  princess,  and  the 
dragon  could  not  be  procured,  and  the  magician  was 
absent ;  and  as  I  could  not  have  any  of  those  fine  things, 
I  took  a  piece  of  corn  bread  instead,  and  swallowed  it 
witli  relish,  and  a  new  longing  after  the  Ideal. 

The  next  night,  believing  the  Lieutenant  would  not 
come,  and  that  our  delay  was  dangerous,  we  parted  from 
our  good  friends  with  saddened  hearts.  Old  men  took  us 
in  their  arms  and  blessed  us ;  women,  young  and  old, 
wept  at  our  departure,  and  children  nestled  to  our  bosom 
as  if  we  were  the  nearest  and  dearest  of  their  kin. 

All  that  was  not  for  us  personally.  It  was  the  out- 
pouring of  loyalty  from  tliose  noble  spirits  toward  tlie 
representatives  of  that  element  in  the  great  Republic  ;  the 
homage  paid  to  the  princij^le  of  patriotism  ;  the  gushing 
forth  of  suppressed  Unionism  toward  those  who  had 
suffered  in  its  cause. 

Wilkes  is  one  of  the  strongest  fJnion  counties — proba- 
bly the  strongest — in  iS"orth  Carolina.  The  Rebels  call  it 
old  United  States,  and  declare  it  in-epressible.  Deserters 
from  tie  Southern  service  went  about  there  with  impu- 
nity, but  generally  carried  their  weajions.  Often  fights 
took  place  between  them  and  the  Home  Guards,  and  the 
latter  were  generally  worsted. 

At  Traphill,  some  twenty  miles  f^^m  the  settlement  in 
which  we  were,  the  Unionists  and  Rebels  had  had  a 


THE  HAVEN  OF  REST.  385 

dozen  figlits,  the  former  being  intrenclied,  and  capable 
of  defending  themselves  against  large  odds. 

The  Guards  were  tolerably  quiet  when  we  were  there, 
so  far  as,  deserters  were  concerned,  but  they  would  have 
been  very  glad  to  capture  or  shoot  an  escaping  Yankee. 

The  Union  men  were  increasing  every  month,  and  the 
insurgents  diminishing.  Some  of  the  latter  had  under- 
gone a  great  revolution  during  the  year.  A  man  who 
had  been  a  prominent  Secessionist  invited  us  to  his  house, 
but  we  Avent  not. 

The  loyal  population  had  suffered  greatly.  Tito  War 
had  deprived  them  of  their  property,  their  protectors,  and 
their  peace ;  but  still  they  clung  to  the  belief  that  the 
cause  of  the  Republic  must  prevail ;  that  all  would  be 
well  with  those  who  held  out  to  the  last. 


FOUR  YEAIIS  IN  SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE   MARCH   OITWARD. 

Accession  of  Escaped  Prisoners. —  Resupiption  of  our  Journey. —  Excessive 
Roughness  of  the  Route. — Character  of  the  North  Carolina  Roads.'— Flanking 
of  "Wilkcsboro. — Losing  our  "Way. — Crossing  the  Yadkin. — Skeptical  Women. 
— Interview  with  Bushwhackers. — Consoling  Counsel. — Passage  of  the  Blue 
Ridge. — A  Severe  March  over  Mountains. — Safety  ever  Retreating. — Narrow 
Escapes  from  Union  Rifles. — Contradictory  Reports  about  our  Lines. 

While  in  Wilkes  County,  two  of  our  fellow-prisofiers, 
a  captain  of  a  small  trading- vessel  from  Philadel^Dliia, 
and  a  North  Carolina  Unionist,  having  escaped  "by  bri- 
"bing  the  guard  at  Salisbury,  arrived  in  the  settlement, 
and  sent  us  word  they  would  like  to  journey  in  our 
company  ;  hut,  deeming  it  prudent  for  us  to  travel  in 
small  parties,  we  declined,  and  Sergeant  Thurston  joined 
the  other  two,  who,  with  a  deserter  from  Lee' s  army,  set 
out  toward  Wilkeshoro,  the  capital  of  the  county,  the 
day  before  we  did. 

Wednesday  night,  December  28,  we  resumed  our 
march.  It  was  very  dark  and  stormy,  and  one  of  our 
many  loyal  friends  guiding  us  for  five  miles  to  the 
cabin  of  a  free  mulatto,  who  in  turn  piloted  us  on,  we 
reached  Glass' s  miU,  a  distance  of  fourteen  miles,  without 
fatigue. 

Our  long  rest  had  materially  benefited  us,  and  we  felt 


THE   M.VRC1I   ONWARD.  337 

much  fresher  than  when  w^e  quitted  the  Penitentiary  so 
abruptly.  At  the  mill  we  found  the  other  party  of  four, 
and  going  to  the  habitation  of  a  Unionist,  he  directed  us 
to  his  corn-crib,  where  we  lay  concealed  until  tlie  follow- 
ing night.  After  dark  we  obtained  a  substantial  meal, 
and  continued  our  progress  towaid  AVilkesboro,  having 
secured  the  services  of  a  guide. 

The  road  was  extremely  rough,  being  so  excessively 
cut  up  and  frozen  that  we  stumbled  along  like  men  in  the 
last  stage  of  intoxication,  frequently  falling  on  our  knees 
and  at  full  length. 

One  who  has  not  traveled  in  ISTorth  Carolina  since  the 
War  can  form  no  idea  of  the  state  of  the  roads,  which  de- 
serve not  the  name.  They  have  not  been  repaired  for 
years,  and  were  never  in  a  good  condition.  There  are 
ruts,  gullies,  embankments,  ridges,  cuts,  over  which  no 
ordinary  wagon  could  move  beyond  a  snail' s  pace  with- 
out upsetting  half  a  dozen  times  every  mile.  And  then, 
traveling  upon  them  at  night  vastly  augments  the  labor 
and  the  difficulty. 

The  march  is  exhausting  to  the  last  degree.  Cold  as  the 
weather  often  was,  our  bodies  were  bathed  in  perspira- 
tion ;  our  blood  burned  ;  our  limbs  ached  ;  our  feet  were 
twisted  and  strained  until  they  seemed  as  if  they  must  re- 
fuse their  office.  They  became  numb  and  sore,  fevered 
and  frozen  by  turns.  The  frozen  earth  cut  through  our 
boots  like  knives,  and  lacerated  the  tender  flesh. 

It  appeared  often  as  if  we  must  sink  down  by  the  way- 
side—that even  the  strong  magnet  of  Liberty  could  draw 
us  no  farther.  Yet  we  exercised  our  Will.  Wo  thought 
of  the  prisons  we  had  left ;  of  the  wretched  death  that 


388  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

might  overtake  us  if  we  lagged  behind  in  that  wild  and 
dreary  country ;  and  then  of  the  beloved  Nortli  and  the  dear 
friends  from  whom  we  had  been  so  long  separated,  and 
who  would  greet  us  tliere  as  if  we  had  risen  from  the 
tomb  ;  and  the  contrast  spurred  us  on.  Our  strength  re- 
vived, and  our  sinews  were  braced  afresh. 

About  midnight  we  were  within  a  mile  of  Wilkesboro. 
We  essayed  to  Hank  the  town,  and,  losing  our  way,  were 
compelled  to  retrace  our  steps  for  several  mik^s.  AVe  were 
all  tired  out,  and  obliged  to  halt  when  we  had  finally 
passed  around  and  beyond  the  place.  Our  blood  was 
chilled  ;  our  limbs  were  stiff ;  oiy  frame  shook  as  in  an 
ague-fit. 

We  paused  and  lighted  a  fire,  knowing  not  where  we 
were,  for  our  guide  had  lost  his  reckoning  entirely.  We 
lay  down  on  the  frozen  ground,  but,  exhausted  as  we 
were,  we  could  not  sleep.  While  one  side  of  our  bodies 
was  hot  from  the  flames,  we  were  icy  cold  on  the  other. 

We  suffered  more  from  the  sharp,  frosty  air  and  the 
wintry  Avind  than  when  in  motion.  We  must  go  on,  and 
on  we  went  for  five  miles,  until  we  reached  the  banks  of 
the  Yadkin  River.  It  was  then  Ibroad  day,  but  it  was 
highly  important  we  should  cross  the  stream  at  once  ;  for 
we  had  been  assured  that  when  we  were  on  the  other  side 
we  would  be  safe. 

Fortunately,  we  met  a  Unionist  who  directed  us  to  the 
ford,  which  we  found,  after  wandering  wp  and  down  for 
an  hour.  A  woman  was  crossing  the  river  in  a  canoe, 
and  when  she  reached  the  eastern  bank  we  asked  for  a 
man  who  had  been  recommended  to  us.  The  woman  was 
wary,  fearing  we  were  Home  Guards  in  search  of  her 


THE  MARCH   ONWARD.  389 

husband,  the  person  for  Avlioni  we  inquired.  We  soon 
succeeded  in  convincing  her  of  her  error,  wlien  she  told 
us  she  was  his  wife,  on  her  way  to  Wilkesboro  to  sell 
some  butter.  We  crossed  tlie  stream,  but  before  we 
could  reach  the  habitation  we  were  seeking,  we  heard  a 
horn  blow,  and  knew  it  was  a  signal  to  the  "  liers-out." 

Having  arrived  at  the  dwelling,  not  a  man  was  visible, 
and  an  elderly  Avoman  there  proved  as  absolute  a  know- 
nothing  as  it  was  possible  to  conceive.  She  declared  she 
was  utterly  destitute  of  information  of  any  Idnd  on  any 
subject.  We  assured  her  we  were  friends  ;  that  we  were 
escaped  Yankee  prisoners ;  but  she  could  not  be  con- 
vinced ;  remarking  that  the  Rebels  often  went  about 
in  disguise,  pret(Miding  to  be  what  they  were  not,  and 
plainly  intimating  that  she  did  not  believe  a  word  of 
what  we  said. 

Almost  an  hour's  argument  was  requisite  to  prove  to 
the  female  skeptic  that  we  were  what  we  had  stated. 
Then  she  offered  us  something  to  eat — fat  pork,  butter- 
milk, and  corn-bread,  which,  as  we  were  very  hungry, 
we  consumed  voraciously.  She  told  us  to  hide  in  the 
bushes,  and  that  the  man  Ave  wished  to  see  would  soon 
join  us,  as  she  had  sent  a  messenger  for  him. 

AVe  did  so,  and  ere  long  the  bushwhacker  made  his 
appearance,  and  was  very  glad  to  see  us.  He  introduced 
us  to  several  others  of  his  class,  and  three  or  four  of 
Colonel  Kirk's  regiment.  We  inquired  about  the  pros- 
pect of  crossing  the  Blue  Ridge,  twenty  miles  to  the 
West,  and  the  answer  was,  that  it  was  useless  to  make 
the  attempt ;  that  the  mountains  were  covered  with 
snow  ;  that,  if  we  endeavored  to  go  over  them,  we  would 


390  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

certainly  be  tracked,  caught,  and  killed.  "It  is  two 
liuiidied  miles  to  Knoxville,"  continued  the  spokesman, 
"and  no  one  ever  reaches  there.  All  who  try  it  are 
murdered  on  the  way." 

That  was  encouraging,  certainly,  to  us,  who  had  been 
assured  our  peril  would  be  past  when  we  had  crossed 
the  Yadkin.  I  laughed  at  the  consolation  we  had  receiv- 
ed ;  though,  I  confess,  the  laugh  was  not  from  the  heart. 

We  told  the  bushwhackers  we  were  willing  to  take  the 
risk ;  that  we  would  pay  any  of  them  liberally  who 
would  undertake  to  guide  us  across  the  mountains. 
Kone  of  them  would  consent ;  but  informed  us,  if  we 
would  wait  until  the  snow  had  disappeared,  they  would 
pilot  us,  but  not  till  then ;  and  that  we  could  live  with 
them  until  that  time  arrived. 

Knowing  from  past  experiences,  that  dangers  and 
difficulties  generally  diminish  Avhen  we  confront,  or  as 
we  approach  them,  we  resolved  to  push  on  at  least  to  the 
base  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  That  night  we  started,  although 
we  had  been  told  the  passes  were  guarded,  and  accom- 
plished seven  North- Carolina  miles — the  longest  in  the 
world,  except  those.of  Tennessee — when  we  found  another 
Union  family.  We  went  into  an  open  corn-crib,  and 
thinking  we  could  sleep,  as  the  weather  had  moderated, 
we  threw  ourselves  on  the  ground. 

We  had  barely  lain  down  before  the  wind  veered 
round  to  the  North,  and  blew  so  coldly  on  our  thinly 
attired  bodies  that  sleep  was  impossible.  We  had  little 
or  no  protection  from  the  blast ;  and  believing  I  would 
freeze  there,  I  removed  to  another  out-house,  and  was 
endeavoring  to  bury  myself  among  the  ears  of  corn,  when 


THE  MiVRCn  ONWARD,  391 

the  Uniomst  caiiK^  up  and  said:  "Boys,  it's  too  cold 
here.  I'll  put  yon  iu  my  store-house.  There's  a  good 
deal  of  fodder  there.  My  wife  will  send  you  food  and 
quilts,  and  I  reckon  you  can  make  yourselves  comfor- 
table." 

In  a  few  minutes  our  party  of  eight — we  had  discov- 
ered and  greatly  frightened  a  couple  of  deserters  from 
Alabama  and  Florida,  who  had  traveled  on  foot  all  the 
way  from  Richmond,  by  coming  suddenly  upon  them  in 
the  corn-crib,  but  whom  we  left  there  asleep — were  in 
the  store-house,  and  very  agreeably  situated,  compara- 
tively. I  rested  very  little  that  night,  but  my  compa- 
nions slumbered  soundly  ;  and  the  next  morning — the 
last  day  of  the  year — we  told  the  other  four  they  had 
better  go  on,  and  that  we  would  wait  until  January  1st. 

So  we  divided  again,  and  after  passing  New- Year's  Day 
in  the  store-house,  we  started  again  that  night — clear, 
bright,  and  cold — but  not  before  I  had  exchanged  the 
cape  of  an  army  over- coat  for  a  quilt — and  walked  ten 
miles,  crossing  Wilson's  Fork  at  least  twenty-five  times, 
and  falling  into  it  at  least  twelve, '  arriving  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  in  Watauga  Co\inty. 

The  Laurel  Spur  of  the  Blue  Ridge  we  ascended  with 
little  difficulty,  and  were  taktMi  in  by  a  Unionist,  who  i)ut 
us  in  tli(3  upper  part  of  a  store-house,  on  a  feather-bed, 
and  gave  us  several  coverlets.  Strange !  I  could  not  sleep  ; 
I  never  tried  more  energetically  in  all  my  life ;  but 
I  lay  there  stark  wid(?  awak(i  all  day ;  the  infernal  ver- 
min, of  which  we  had  not  gotten  rid,  torturing  us  exceed- 
ingly, and  driving  away  repose ;  our  inability  to  bathe 
and  change  our  under-«lothes,  as  we  had  done  regularly 


392  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

in  Prison,  rendering  our  condition  very  uncomfortable 
in  that  respect. 

On  the  night  of  January  2,  we  engaged  the  loyal  man 
who  had  sheltered  us  to  take  us  over  the  Blue  Ridge, 
which,  he  informed  us,  there  was  no  difficulty  in  cross- 
ing, as  the  passes  were  not  guarded,  and  the  snow  was 
not  deep  enough  to  impede  our  progress. 

We  had  anticipated  vast  difficulty  and  extreme  fatigue 
from  that  part  of  the  journey,  and  we  were  greatly 
pleased  to  hear  him  express  himself  so  encouragingly, 
particularly  as  we  fancied,  once  beyond  that  range  of 
mountains,  we  would  have  a  fair  prospect  of  getting 
through. 

Experience  proved  the  correctness  of  our  guide' s  ob- 
servation. We  found  the  ascent  far  easier  than  some  of 
the  roads  we  had  traveled,  and  we  enjoyed  a  fine  view 
of  the  surrounding  country  at  the  summit,  twenty-five 
hundred  feet  above  sea-level. 

We  were  in  fine  condition.  We  descended,  obtaining 
very  picturesque  views  of  mountain  scenery,  which  we 
were  liardly  in  a  proper  frame  of  mind  fully  to  appreciate, 
and  reached  and  crossed  New  River.  We  were  very  glad 
to  see  a  river  sensible  enough  to  run  North,  as  that  did, 
and  we  knelt  down  and  kissed  and  quafied  its  limpid 
waters  in  token  of  our  admiration  for  its  judgment. 

Made  fifteen  miles  that  night,  much  of  it  very  hard 
traveling.  Fell  into  a  number  of  mountain  streams,  and 
were  quite  wet  when  we  reached  our  destination.  The 
weather  cold  and  wind  cutting,  as  we  crawled  into  our 
usual  place  of  shelter  and  concealment — a  barn.  Were 
very  hungry,  and  ate  a  piece  of  ^orn  bread  with  exceed- 


THE   MARCH   ONWARD.  393 

ing  relish,  as  "we  lay  covered  up,  but  shivering,  in  the 
hay.  My  note-book  reads:  "  IIoav  I  long  for  the  snowy 
sheets  and  soft  pillows — shall  I  say  the  softer  snow^y 
arms  ? — I  have  known  in  the  beloved  and  blessed  North  !" 
I  presume,  as  the  feeling  is  very  natural,  that  the  wish 
must  have  come  from  the  heart. 

January  3,  we  made  the  first  march  by  day,  having 
been  assured  it  was  perfectly  safe.  No  doubt  it  was,  for 
it  was  by  foot-paths  over  very  steep,  rough  mountains, 
through  laurel  thickets  and  rocky  streams,  and  over 
fallen  timber.  The  snow  was  ten  to  twelve  inches  deep 
on  the  mountains,  and  we  were  eight  hours  in  going  ten 
miles.  We  often  fell  head  over  heels  in  descending,  and 
sometimes  hurt  ourselves  not  a  little,  by  striking  trees 
and  stumps  ;  and  in  ascending  we  had  to  drag  ourselves 
up  by  the  branches  of  trees,  and  with  the  aid  of  our  staflfe 
almost  constantly. 

At  the  end  of  our  stage  we  learned  we  were  in  Johnson 
County,  Tennessee,  tliree  miles  from  the  North- Carolina 
line.  Out  of  that  State  we  were  at  last ;  and  much  we 
felicitated  ourselves  on  the  fact.  Tliat  began  to  look 
like  successful  escape — like  a  reward  for  all  our  endu- 
rance and  suffering. 

We  had  been  told  when  we  arrived  in  Tennessee  we 
would  be  perfectly  safe.  In  fact,  those  stories  were 
repeated  to  us  Jall  along  the  route.  The  place  we  chanced 
to  be  in  was  very  dangerous;  but  just  beyond — ten, 
twenty,  or  thirty  miles — there  was  another  place,  where 
there  was  no  danger  whatever. 

"Wlien  we  left  Salisbury,  to  reach  Wilkes  County  was 
to  be  secure.      When  we  quitted  the  Union  settlement, 


394  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

all  Ave  needed  for  safety  was  to  get  beyond  Wilkes- 
boro.  Then,  when  we  had  crossed  the  Yadkin,  we 
could  lay  aside  all  apprehension  ;  and  beyond  the  Yad- 
kin we  met  reckless  bushwhackers  and  hardy  moun- 
taineers, who  would  not  venture  to  go  with  ns  over 
the  Blue  Ridge,  but  told  us  it  was  madness  to  make  the 
attempt. 

Our  natural  deduction  was,  from  all  this,  that  no  local- 
ity was  safe  except  that  over  which  the  blessed  Banner 
of  Stars  waved  ;  and  to  see  that  once  more  was  our  aim, 
our  anxiety,  our  aspiration. 

In  Johnson  County  we  obtained  an  excellent  supper 
for  that  region — the  best  we  had  had — and  we  ate  raven- 
ously after  our  mountain .  climbing,  and  a  fast  of  fifteen 
hours. 

The  Union  people  to  whom  we  went  put  us  in  their 
barn,  advising  us  to  be  very  cautious,  as  the  North  Caro- 
lina Home  Guards  frequently  came  into  that  county,  and 
robbed  and  burned  without  the  least  regard  to  person  or 
property. 

The  loyalists  of  that  section  had  suffered  fearfully. 
Marauders  had  frequently  been  through  tliere,  and  stolen 
women' s  and  children' s  clothes,  broken  open  trunks  and 
draAvers,  and  carried  off  articles  of  which  they  had  no 
need.  They  had  stolen  provisions,  until  the  poor  people 
were  sometimes  compelled  to  beg  ;  had  applied  the  torch 
to  the  dwellings  of  honest  farmers  before  their  eyes,  and 
threatened  to  hang  them  if  they  complained  of  the  out- 
rage. 

We  assured  our  protector,  if  we  were  discovered,  that 
we  would  fully  exculpate  him ;   that  we  would  make 


THE    ROHFMIANS    CIIMRINP,    THE    MOUNTAINS 


THE   MARCH   ONWARD.  ^05 

oath,  if  need  there  were,  that  lie  knew  nothing  of  our 
being  in  his  barn. 

We  crept  under  some  fodd(n',  and  slept  at  intervals 
until  morning,  when  we  returned  to  tlio  house  and  at-e 
breakfast,  while  two  of  the  old  man's  daughters  stood 
picket.  We  then  learned  Ave  had  had  several  narrow 
escapes  in  coming  down  the  mountain.  We  had  been 
mistaken  for  Homo  Guards ;  and  several  of  the  bush- 
Avhackers  had  had  their  rifles  leveled  at  us,  when  some 
fortunate  circumstance  intervened  to  prevent  them  from 
pulling  the  trigger. 

None  of  us  were  anxious  to  be  shot,  but  if  that  was 
our  destiny,  we  preferred  to  be  perforated  by  a  genuine 
Rebel  rather  than  by  our  natural  allies  and  political 
friends. 

Our  boots  being  cut  and  burst  out,  we  set  forth  to  find 
a  cobbler,  and  did  so.  While  we  were  waiting  for  the 
return  of  our  foot-coverings,  in  a  hay-loft,  we  were  vis- 
ited by  a  number  of  bushwhackers,  who  wanted  us  to 
stay  with  them  ;  assuring  us  we  would  make  excellent 
members  of  the  profession.  They  related  many  of  their 
adventures,  and  entertained  us  for  some  time,  though 
we  did  not  feel  inclined  to  accept  their  proposition.  Re- 
ceived a  great  deal  of  advice  as  to  the  best  course  for  us 
to  pursue  ;  and  if  the  adage  be  sound,  that  in  multiplicity 
of  counselors  there  is  safetj^,  we  should  have  been  entirely 
out  of  danger. 

Heard  a  great  deal  about  Home  Guards,  Rebel  scouts, 
and  cavalry  ;  were  advised  to  stay  where  we  were,  and 
depart  at  once ;  but  as  we  could  not  do  both,  we  con- 
cluded to  remain  in  the  neighborhood  of  Drake's  Creek 

20 


390  FOUPw  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

until  we  could  learn  soraetliing  of  the  situation  further 
on.  The  otlier  party  were  in  the  vicinity,  waiting,  as  we 
were,  for  information,  which  was  very  difficult  of  obtain- 
ment. 

We  were  naturally  very  anxious  to  learn  where  our 
forces  were,  having  heard  some  miles  back  that  they  were 
at  Peach  Orchard,  Tenn.  It  wa«  then  reported  i\wy  were 
not  there,  but  were  certainly  at  Carter's  Depot,  in  Carter 
County,  and  that  the  cars  were  running  to  Greenville,  on 
the  East  Tennessee  and  Virgi^iia  Railway.  Our  hearts 
leaped  at  that  intelligence ;  for  we  could  make  Green- 
ville in  three  or  four  days  more.  Our  hope  of  getting 
through  to  our  lines  became  something  tangible,  and  we 
had  no  liigher  boon  to  ask  than  Freedom,  which,  after  the 
repair  of  our  boots,  we  had  less  fear  of  losing  through 
any  failure  of  leather. 

After  burrowing  in  the  corn-husks  of  a  barn,  on  the 
night  of  January  4th,  Ave  were  informed  by  our  Unionist 
friend  that  some  hundreds  of  the  enemy' s  cavalry  were 
reported  coming  down  tlie  road,  and  that,  as  they  would 
certainly  search  all  the  stables  and  outhouses  for  fodder 
and  horses,  we  had  better  flee  to  the  mountains  for  con- 
cealment. We  had  had  so  many  alarms  that  The  Tri- 
bune scribes  put  little  faith  in  the  story,  and  were  dis- 
posed to  lie  still ;  but  as  the  others  were  uneasy,  and 
extreme  prudence  is  the  best  policy  of  unarmed  men,  we 
crawled  out  of  our  nests,  and  sallied  forth  into  a  bright, 
still,  cold  night,  resembling,  with  the  snow,  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  frosted  pines,  the  Polar  regions  far  more 
than  the  sunny  South. 

The  mo.re  we  reflected  on  the  report  of  the  Rebel  cav- 


THE   MARCH   OXWAKD.  397 

alrj  the  less  vre  believed  it ;  and  therefore,  instead  of 
climbing  the  mountains,  we  elected  to  invade  some  other 
shed,  in  a  more  secluded  place.  We  roamed  about  for 
two  hours,  like  Scandinavian  specters,  over  the  rough, 
frozen,  snow-covered  ground,  and  at  last  crept  into  a 
barn,  where  I  lay  sleepless  until  morning,  and  almost 
frozen,  being  barely  able  to  stand  when  I  rose  to  my  feet. 

Very  weary  and  wearing  was  that  species  of  existence ; 
but  through  the  heavy  clouds  we  had  faith  the  sun 
would  ere  long  break  in  golden  glory.  Referring  to  my 
note-book,  I  find  these  words:  " This  experience. will  be 
pleasant  some  day  to  look  back  on,  and  talk  about ;  but  it 
is  difficult  to  undergo,  requiring  all  the  patience  and  phi- 
losophy I  can  master.  Any  thing  for  freedom  !  Though 
I  perish  in  the  effort  to  regain  it,  I  shall  not  regret  it,  I  am 
sure,  if  conscious  in  a  future  state  of  what  has  occurred 
in  the  present." 

That  very  day,  January  5,  we  made  preparations  to 
go  forward,  having  found  an  individual  who  said  he 
would  guide  us  to  Carter' s  Depot.  Very  glad  were  we 
to  be  on  the  march  once  more,  as  we  were  tired  enough 
of  freezing  in  haj^stacks  and  corn-lofts,  and  skulking 
from  barn  to  barn,  from  valley  to  mountain,  from  ridge 
to  ravine. 

We  met  the  second  party,  consisting  of  Sergeant  Thurs- 
ton, the  other  two  escaped  prisoners,  and  the  three  Rebel 
deserters,  at  the  cabin  of  a  loyal  woman,  whose  husband 
had  gone  to  the  Yankees ;  and  after  obtaining  a  hearty 
meal,  and  taking  rations  enough  in  our  liaversacks  for 
two  days,  we  waited  for  the  guide. 

While  we  were  waiting,  several  of  us  ascended   an 


3U8  FOUR    YEARS   IN  SECESSIA. 

adjacent  mountain,  to  see  a  x^arty  of  Unionists  wlio  "were 
lying  out.  Some  of  tliem  had  been  in  the  Rebel  service, 
and  others  had  fled  from  home  to  avoid  conscription. 
They  had  been  living  in  rude  huts  or  holes  in  the  ground 
for  twelve,  some  for  twenty-four  months,  obtaining  pro- 
visions from  their  relatives  or  friends,  but  never  remain- 
ing at  home  or  sleeping  in  a  bed  for  a  single  night. 

The  men  were  hardy,  determined  fellows,  only  violent 
when  they  spoke  of  the  enemies  of  the  country  and  the 
wrong  they  had  suffered  at  their  hands.  They  all  had 
their  stories  of  outrage  and  wrong  to  relate  ;  and  no  one 
who  heard  them  could  refrain  from  pitying  their  condi- 
tion, and  sharing  their  hatred  of  the  Kebels. 


THE    IIECmA   IN    EAST   TENNESSEE.  399 


CHAPTER  LII. 

THE  IIEGIRA    IN   EAST  TENNESSE". 

Traveling  in  that  Region. — Passage  of  the  Piney  and  Stone  Mountains. — Crosa- 
ing  the  Watauga  River. — Invitation  to  a  Frolic. — Peculiar  Reason  for  our 
Declination. — Reciilessness  Engendered  by  our  Situation. — Meeting  with  Dan 
Ellis,  the  Pilot,  and  his  Party. — His  Kindness  and  Generosity. — The  Effect  of 
Apple  Brandy. — ifysterious  Disappearance  of  a  Bohemian. — Severe  Marching. 
— Strain  on  the  Nervous  System. — Reports  of  Rebels  in  our  Vicinity. — A 
Valuable  Steed  and  his  Fate. — Anxiety  of  our  Guides  to  Meet  the  Enemy. 

^HE  guide  arrived  at  the  cabin  about  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  and  we  set  out  at  once  for  Carter' s  dep6t. 
We  crossed  Pinoy  and  Stone  Mountains,  the  steepest 
and  most  difficult  we  had  encountered,  and  had  a  fine  view 
of  the  Alleghanies  from  their  summit.  They  reminded 
me  of  an  earth-storm  ;  the  barren  peaks  looking  like  vast 
billows  frozen  into  stone.  The  snow  was  some  twelve 
inches  deep,  and  the  march  arduous,  but  romantic.  We 
slipped,  tumbled,  and  fell  along  in  the  most  ludicrous 
style,  and  tore  our  newly  mended  boots  worse  than  ever. 
Leather  appeared  to  have  no  power  to  endure  those 
mountain  marches.  It  was  like  paper  against  the  sharp 
stones  and  rough  rocks. 

We  had  not  proceeded  more  than  twelve  miles  before 
our  pilot  said  he  must  return.  We  told  him  he  had 
promised  to  take  us  to  Carter's  depot ;  but  he  vowed  he 
had  not ;  though  he  would  do  it  if  his  wife  were  not  sick, 


400  FOUPw   YEAIIS   IN   tECESSIA. 

and  in  need  of  his  attention.  We  offered  hint  any  re- 
muneration if  he  ■vvould'  accompany  us  ;  even  proposed  to 
X)ay  for  his  consort  should  she  die  in  his  absence  ;  but  he 
Avould  not  be  persuaded  or  hired,  and  we  were  compelled 
to  give  him  up,  though  very  reluctantly. 

Kindling  a  fire  in  one  of  the  gorges,  we  sat  by  it  until 
dark,  when  we  continued  our  march  under  our  own 
supervision.  We  stopped  at  the  house  of  a  Tennessee 
clergyman  about  ten  o'clock,  and  there  had  an  ample 
meal.  He  was  a  fine  specimen  of  an  upright,  bold,  out- 
spoken loyalist.  He  had  four  sons  in  tlie  Union  service ; 
said  he  Avished  he  had  four  more,  and  that  he  Avould  have 
been  there  himself  if  his  years  and  health  would  have 
allowed  him  to  be.  He  congratulated  us  on  our  escape, 
and  said  he  would  pray  for  our  safe  arrival  within  our 
lines  ;  told  us  what  direction  to  take,  and  what  people  to 
see,  regretting  he  could  not  pilot  us  himself  on  account 
of  his  rheumatism. 

After  resting  we  proceeded,  and  about  three  o'clock 
the  next  morning  reached  the  farm  to  which  we  had  been 
directed,  and,  as  usual,  went  to  the  barn — having  made 
some  eighteen  miles '  from  the  last  settlement.  No  sleep 
worthy  the  name,  of  course  ;  arose  from  our  couch  of  hay 
about  eight  o'clock,  January  6,  and  accepted  our  host's 
invitation  to  breakfast  with  remarkable  promptness.  He 
told  us  we  were  in  quite  a  secure  region,  and  that  there 
would  be  little  danger  in  travelmg  to  and  along  the 
Watauga  River  by  daylight. 

We  took  him  at  his  word,  bathed  in  Roan's  Creek,  and 
felt  refreshed  and  lighter-spirited.  We  had  a  pleasant 
ramble  along  the  Watauga,  which  reminded  me  of  the 


THE   IIEGIKA   IX   EAST   TENNESSEE.  401 

Kentucky  River,  being  quite  picturesque  and.  romantic, 
for  eight  miles,  when  "we  crossed  in  a  canoe  to  Carter 
County,  and,  going  to  one  of  our  cordon  of  Union  men, 
received  a  Avarm  -welcome,  and  the  best  and  freest  of  his 
hospitalit}'.  We  slept  in  a  bed,  Avith  more  comfort  than 
usual,  undetermined  "whether  to  wait  for  some  time  or 
push  on  the  next  day.  We  heard  all  the  Rebels  had  left 
below,  and  were  once  more  assured  that  our  forces  held 
Greenville,  but  not  Carter  s  depot.  We  breathed  more 
and  more  freely  as  we  progressed,  the  prospect  of  freedom 
growing  brighter  every  da}^ 

AYhere  we  then  were  we  met  a  number  of  Union  Ten- 
nessee soldiers,  who  had  come  home  on  furlough,  some 
of  whom  were  soon  to  return  to  their  regiments.  They 
Were  going  about  very  openly,  giving  us  an  idea  there 
was  not  much  danger  in  that  neighborhood  from  the 
enemy. 

They  even  had  what  they  called  a  "frolic"  one  night, 
and  invited  us  ;  but,  as  we  had  no  arms,  we  did  not  deem 
it  prudent  to  go ;  for  it  was  not  unusual  for  the  Home 
Guards  to  surround  the  houses  in  which  the  company 
gathered,  and  shoot  the  men  as  they  went  out. 

Several  cases  of  the  kind  had  occurred  a  few  weeks 
before  our  arrival  in  Wilkes  County  ;  and  when  th(i  de- 
serters were  gathered  in  force,  they  would  invite  the 
Guard  to  call  again ;  but,  when  expected  and  prepared 
for,  they  invariably  stayed  away. 

I  remember  some  years  ago,  in  New  Orleans,  I  was 
amused  to  see  in  tlie  papers  advertisements  of  masquer- 
ades, to  the  effect  that  gentlemen  were  requested  to  leave 
their  weapons  at  the  door.     But  not  until  I  became  a  fugi- 


402  FOUR   YEARS  IN   SECESSIA. 

live  in  Secessia  had  I  ever  declined  an  invitation  to  join 
a  social  circle  "because  I  had  no  weapons  to  take  there 
with  me. 

Unique  country  that,  and  peculiar  state  of  society  down 
there,  particularly  since  the  War ! 

Our  party  had  been  entertained,  from  the  time  of  its 
escape,  by  assurances  of  people  we  met  along  the  road 
tliat  we  were  likely  to  be  shot  at  any  time  by  our  friends 
from  tli<>  l)rush,  or  in  the  mountain  passages. 

Life  was  evidently  of  no  value  in  the  sections  through 
which  we  passed,  as  we  learned  from  the  stories  of  mur- 
ders and  butcheries  almost  daily  told.  That  Avild  moun- 
tain life  generated  recklessness  and  indifference,  no  doubt, 
as  we  ourselves  experienced.  Though  seemingly  in  the 
midst  of  perpetual  danger,  we  cared  little,  if  any  thing, 
for  the  possibilities  or  probabilities  of  the  future ;  but 
often  amused  ourselves  with  representing  how  "  our 
special  Correspondent"  would  appear  with  a  rope  about 
his  neck,  or  a  bullet  through  his  brain. 

On  the  whole,  that  nervousness  we  expected  to  have 
on  the  march  through  the  enemy's  country,  and  that  con- 
stant anxiety  about  our  capture  or  massacre,  we  did  not 
feel  to  any  extent.  \Ye  determined  to  do  all  that  lay  in 
our  power  to  effect  our  escape  and  reach  our  lines,  and 
left  the  result  in  the  hands  of  the  Gods.  AYe  became  for 
tliG  time  being  fatalists,  as  most  men  are  prone  to  who 
lead  hazardous  lives,  and  were  resolved  not  to  worry 
ourselves  about  the  Unseen,  or  entertain  grave  apprehen- 
sions respecting  the  Untried. 

About  noon  of  Januar}''  7,  our  host  agreed  to  fake 
us  across  the  country  by  a  secret  path  to  a  relative  of 


THE   UEGIRA   IN   EAST   TENNESSEE.  403 

his,  residing  on  the  banks  of  the  Watauga  ;  telling  us  that 
a  famous  guide,  Dan  Ellis,  of  whom  Ave  had  heard  a  great 
deal,  was  soon  to  go  through  to  our  lines  with  a  party, 
and  that,  if  we  could  strike  him,  there  would  be  little 
danger  of  our  failure  to  seeing  our  freedom.  That  was 
exactly  what  we  wanted,  and  we  marched  off  very 
briskly  ;  crossed  the  river  about  three  o'clo'ck  in  the  after- 
noon, and  were  soon  comfortably  ensconced  by  the  fire- 
side of  the  most  comfortable  dwelling  we  had  seen  on  our 
journey. 

At  that  resting-place  we  converted  ourselves  into 
washer- Avomen,  going  out  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  light- 
ing a  huge  fire  under  an  iron  kettle,  and  abluting  our 
under-clothes  with  more  energy  than  skill ;  and  all  night, 
though  it  was  frosty,  denuding  and  bathing  ourselves  in 
the  stream.  Of  course  we  must  have  felt  quite  secure  to 
do  those  things,  and  we  did,  from  the  fact  that  the  house 
where  we  were  stopping  was  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river  from  the  road — the  stream  was  so  high,  too,  as  to  be 
unfordable,  and  situated  in  front  of  a  gap  between  the 
mountains,  furnishing  an  excellent  means  of  retreat  if  we 
were  pursued.  It  was  really  an  intrenched  position,  and 
we  could  afford  to  expose  ourselves  there. 

Sunday,  January  8,  we  deemed  it  well  to  push  forward 
to  the  rendezvous  from  which  Dan  Ellis  was  to  start  that 
night.  "We  crossed  the  river  in  the  morning,  and  after 
going  five  miles  found  the  other  party,  and  took  a  boun- 
tiful luncheon,  furnished  by  a  generous-hearted  Unionist, 
in  an  open  field.  We  then  set  out  for  the  rendezvous, 
and  heard  that  Ellis  would  certainly  be  there^  Soon  after 
he  sent  word  for  the  footmen  to  move  on  ;  tlmt  he  would 


p 

404  FOUPw   YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

speedily  bo  along  and  ovei-take  ns.     Tliat  Avas  sufRcient ; 
for  Ellis'  s  AYord  "was  not  to  be  doubted. 

Our  united  party  of  seven  escaped  prisoners  and  three  ^ 
deserters  started  witli  some  fifteen  more  that  had  as- 
sembled to  join  Ellis,  but  had  not  gone  more  than  two 
miles  before  the  famous  pilot  was  up  -with  us,  AVe  three 
Correspondents?  were  presented  to  Ellis,  who  assured  us 
we  should  be  put  through  in  the  right  kind  of  style ; 
that  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  keep  with  him,  if  we  wanted 
to  see  the  Stars  and  Stripes  again. 

His  party  was  very  miscellaneous,  made  up  of  Tennes- 
see Union  soldiers,  Rebel  deserters,  loyal  Southern  citi- 
zens, conscripts  who  would  not  serve,  and  escaped  pris- 
oners. He  had  about  twenty  horses  and  mules,  and  he 
offered  us  Bohemians  an  opportunity  to  ride,  which  we 
accepted  ;  but  I  found  the  animal  that  I  strode  so  slow 
and  indolent  that  it  tired  me  more  to  urge  him  along  than 
to  walk,  and  I  dismounted  after  a  mile  of  persevering 
toil  to  little  purpose. 

Ellis  loaned  his  mule  to  Mr.  Richardson,  and,  carrying 
his  carbine,  which  fired  sixteen  times  without  re-loading, 
walked  more  rapidly  than  almost  any  horse  could,  ]\Iost 
of  his  party  were  mountaineers,  and  quite  fresh,  while 
we  had  been  twenty  months  in  prison,  and  had  then  ac- 
complished over  two  hundred  miles  under  very  adverse 
circumstances.  I  for  one  found  it  very  diflicult  to  keep 
up  with  the  party  at  first,  having  fallen  behind  by  being 
on  that  Rosinante.  On  several  occasions  I  was  compelled 
to  run  for  more  than  a  mile  at  a  time,  falling  over  logs 
and  into  streams  in  mj  usual  fashion. 

I  had  gro"Qm  so  accustomed  to  falling  in  that  mountain 


THE   IlEGIKA    IX  EAST   TENNESSEE.  405 

travel  that  it  iiiterfiu-ed  very  little  with  ni}'  progress.  I 
found  I  could  get  along  about  as  well  by  standing  on  my 
head,  turning  somersaults,  and  performing  acts  of  ground 
and  lofty  tumbling  generally,  as  by  regular  pedestrianizing. 

Tliat  night' s  march  was  tremendous.  AVe  went  twenty- 
seven  miles  long  before  dawn,  and^found,  after  crossing 
the  Nolechucky,  that  we  had  lost  several  of  our  party, 
three  mules,  most  of  the  rations,  and  I  know  not  what  else. 
The  truth  was,  some  of  Ellis's  men  had  drank  too  much. 
ai)ph?  brandy,  becoming  so  intoxicated  that  they  parted 
with  their  reason,  and,  when  asked,  could  not  tell  where 
any  thing  was.  One  of  them,  indeed,  really  lost  his  iden- 
tity, and  declared  he  was  somebody  else  ;  that  the  other 
fellow — giving  his  own  name — was  so  d — d  drunk  that 
they  had  left  Mm  behind. 

Among  the  mysterious  disappearances  was  ^Slr.  Rich- 
ardson. It  was  supposed  he  had  gotten  behind,  and  that 
the  mule  had  taken  the  wrong  road.  We  were  unwilling 
to  go  on  witliout  The  Tribune  scribe,  so  we  bivouacked, 
and  sent  scouts  out  to  obtain  tidings  of  the  missing  indi- 
viduals. Tlie}^  all  came  to  light,  having  run  off  the  track 
by  some  means  unknown  to  themselves.  My  associate 
trusted  to  his  mule,  and  the  mule,  having  delightfully 
original  instincts,  wandered  off  in  a  Xorth-Easterly  in- 
stead of  a  South- Westerly  direction.  The  journalist,  dis- 
covering his  confidence  in  the  animal  had  been  betrayed, 
concluded  to  suspend  operations,  and  put  up  for  the 
night  on  a  log.  When  the  morning  dawned,  he  found  a 
farm(n"  who  informed  him  of  the  right  road,  and  in  four 
hours  after  he  was  in  our  camp.  The  other  mules  were 
discovered,  but  the  rations  never  revealed  themselves. 


406  FOUPw   YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

Monday,  January  9,  we  quitted  camp  in  Washington 
County  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  set  out 
to  cross  the  mountains.  Big  Butt  being  the  highest  and 
hardest  to  climb  of  any  we  had  seen.  It  is  seven  thou- 
sand feet  above  sea-level,  and  seven  miles  from  summit 
to  base.  By  Jove  !  how  we  did  toil  up  that  steep !  It 
seemed  as  if  we  never  would  get  up,  and,  once  up,  as  if 
we  never  would  get  down^  The  horses  and  mules  could 
hardly  be  dragged  to  the  top,  though  they  had  nothing  to 
carry.  My  strength  and  endurance  were  augmenting, 
although  I  rarely  was  able  to  sleep;  and  that  day  I 
followed  immediately  behind  Ellis  until  we  had  de- 
scended to  the  valley  in  Greene  County. 

The  rain  and  sleet  had  been  falling  for  hours  when  we 
paused  for  the  night ;  we  had  had  nothing  to  eat  and  we 
were  quite  wet.  We  had  no  'shelter,  but  tried  to  arrange 
an  old  roof  of  a  house,  that  had  fallen  down,  for  that 
purpose  ;  and  failing '  to  efi'ect  it,  Messrs.  Davis  and 
Richardson,  and  myself,  undertook  to  discover  some 
farm-house  where  we  could  procure  food.  We  were 
successful  in  that,  as  well  as  in  engaging  a  few  bundles 
of  corn-husks  for  a  couch  in  a  wretched  fodder-loft. 
We  rested  far  better  than  we  had  expected,  owing,  no 
doubt,  to  the  extreme  hardships  we  had  undergone. 

For  the  first  time,  I  felt  a  tremendous  strain  on  my 
nervous  system,  caused  by  the  fact  that  it  was  alwaj^s 
on  the  rack  while  with  Ellis,  for  fear,  from  his  rapid 
movements,  I  should  be  left  behind  and  lost,  which  was 
equivalent  to  forfeiting  all  hope  of  freedom,  if  not  of 
life.  Those  mountain  men  never  halted ;  they  rushed 
on  without  looking  back  or  waiting  for  any  one.     They 


THE  IlEGIRA   IN   EAST  TENNESSEE.  407 

would  go  tliroiigli  a  ravine  or  gorge,  leap  across  a  creek, 
dart  into  a  laurel  or  an  ivy  thicket,  and  all  trace  of 
tiiem  "be  gone,  though  you  were  behind  them  only  five 
seconds.  I  remember,  after  keeping  at  the  head  of  the 
file  for  a  number  of  hom-s,  I  steAped  to  give  a  soldier 
a  drink  from  my  canteen,  and  I  lost  nearly  a  mile.  So 
it  was.  There  wj^  little  resting,  and  instead  of  march- 
ing steadily  and  Teisurely,  they  would  go  at  a  break- 
neck pace  that  fatigued  all  of  us  more  in  a  mile  than 
three  miles  would  have  done  at  an  ordinary  and  regular 
gait. 

My  boots  became  more  broken  than  ever  on  the  9th, 
and,  having  split  across  the -joint  of  the  foot,  when  they 
grew  wet  and  shrank  they  gave  me  much  pain  in  walk- 
ing. I  began  to  be  very  anxious  about  getting  through 
after  my  seven-leaguers  showed  such  unmistakable  signs 
of  complete  dissolution,  knowing  that  to  lose  their  use- 
fulness was  to  lose  all  else. 

January  10. — We  three  procured  a  light  breakfast 
at  a  farm-house,  proving  much  more  fortunate  than 
most  of  our  companions,  who  were  half  famished.  Heard 
an  immense  deal  about  Rebels — that  there  were  several 
squads  in  the  neighborhood,  and  so  many  scouting  the 
country  that  it  was  hardly  possible  to  get  through. 
Two  men  who  had  come  from  North  Carolina  with  us 
became  alarmed  and  turned  back,  selling  theii-  horses 
to  the  highest  bidder. 

Mr.  Richardson  purchased  one  of  the  steeds,  and 
though  neither  very  fleet  nor  handsome,  he  had  quali- 
ties to  wear — out  his  rider.  My  confrere  was  much 
exhausted,  and  needed  an  animal  to  ride,  even  if  it  did 


408  FOUR   YEARS  IX   SECESSIA. 

not  appear  well,  or  evince  any  indications  of  patrician 
lineage.  He  rode  the  beast  tlirougli  to  Strawberry  Plains, 
and  then  paid  a  negro  ten  dollars  to  give  him  Christian 
burial,  which  lie  deserved,  for  the  service  he  had  ren- 
dered. The  poor  horse  did  not  wish  to  defer  his  ob- 
sequies, for,  having  eaten  several  bushels  of  corn,  he 
exploded  into  so  manj^  pieces  that  ^ey  could  not  be 
collected  for  interment. 

Poor  Rosinante  was  not  a  serious  loss ;  for,  although 
my  associate  paid  fifty  dollars  in  treasury  notes  for  him, 
his  original  cost,  with  eleven  other  animals  like  him, 
was  at  the  rate  of  five  dollars  per  dozen  in  Rebel  cur- 
renc3'-. 

The  rain  continued  to  fall  steadily,  and  we  were  all 
drenched  ;  the  roads  becoming  almost  impassable  from 
mud.  About  eleven  o'clock  the  sky  cleared,  and  we 
resumed  our  march  on  the  alert  for  the  enemy ;  having 
no  fear  of  any  small  squad,  for  there  were  eight  or  ten 
carbines  in  Ellis's  party,  and  as  many  revolvers,  wli^ch 
the  owners  knew  how  to  use,  as  the  Rebels  had  learned 
in  past  times  to  their  cost.  At  least  ten  of  the  Unionists 
were  old  scouts  and  rangers,  who  had  frequently  en- 
gaged the  "Confederates,"  and,  so  far  from  being 
desirous  to  avoid  them,  were  extremely  anxious  to  come 
in  collision  with  any  thing  like  their  own  number  ;  feeling 
confident,  as  they  expressed  it,  that  they  could  "  sweeten 
their  cofiee"  for  them  in  a  very  few  minutes. 


DAX   ELLIS,   THE   FAMOUS  I'lLOT.  409 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

DA]^   ELLIS,    THE   FAMOUS   PILOT. 

Sketch  of  his  Life  and  Career. — His  uncompromising  Loyalty. — Efforts  to 
Suppress  him. — His  success  as  a  Pilot. — Mode  of  Joining  his  Expeditions. — His 
Adventures  and  Narrow  Escapes. — His  Attachment  to  his  Carbine. — His 
Opinion  of  the  Confederacy. — A  Rebel  Officer's  Views  of  his  Usefulness  to 
the  Union  Cause. 

Dan  Ellis,  or  Captain  Dan  Ellis,  as  lie  is  often  called, 
is  one  of  the  notabilities  of  East  Tennessee.  He  is  a  native 
of  Carter  County,  and  one  of  the  most  ultra  and  irrepres- 
sible Unionists  in  that  extremely  loyal  section.  From  the 
beginning  of  the  troubles,  he  took  a  most  decided  stand 
for  the  Government,  and  has  maintained  it  ever  since. 
He  -was  at  all  tunes  open,  bol^,  and  decided  in  his  oppo- 
sition to,  and  hatred  of,  the  Rebels,  and  declared,  what- 
ever temporary  success  they  might  have,  they  Avould  be 
ultimately  crushed,  and  the  so-called  "Confederacy'' 
■\vitli  them. 

Ellis  is  about  thirty-five  years  old ;  rather  slight,  but 
muscular,  and  agile  as  a  cat ;  of  vigorous  constitution  and 
immense  endurance  ;  brave  as  Belisarius,  but  prudent  and 
cunning  ;  entirely  familiar  with  the  country  within  a  ra- 
dius of  four  or  five  hundred  miles  ;  accustomed  to  all  the 
hardships  and  adventures  of  frontier  life  ;  candid,  gener- 
ous, and  amiable  to  everybody  but  the  Rebels,  Avhose 
right  to  existence  he  does  not  clearly  perceive. 


410  FOUR   YEARS   IN  .SECESSIA. 

Though  nnoducatod,  Ellis  i.s  int^>lligent,  a  close  obser- 
ver, a  good  judge  of  men,  strictly  lionest  and.  abstemious, 
and,  with  all  his  fondness  for  a  wild  and  reckless  life, 
tenderly  attached  to  his  wife  and  children.  He  has  the 
greatest  regard  for  his  word,  and  all  who  know  him 
accept  his  simple  statement  with  the  most  implicit  faith. 
His  promises  every  one  relies  on  ;  and  among  the  people 
of  his  county,  "Dan  Ellis  says  so"  is  an  indubitable 
evidence  of  truthfulness. 

His  outspoken  sentiments  at  the  iaception  of  the  Re- 
bellion, and  his  uncompromising  hatred  of  the  enemies  of 
his  country,  soon  made  him  a  marked  man,  and  excited 
against  him  the  most  violent  hatred  of  the  Secessionists. 
He  was  rather  an  unpleasant  person  to  draw  into  a  quar- 
rel, and  thert^fore  many  of  the  traitors,  who  would  have 
been  delighted  to  find  an  excuse  for  attacking  him,  hesi- 
tated to  do  so,  knowing  his  courage  and  determination, 
and  the  violence  of  his  i)assions  when  once  aroused. 

His  foes  tried  to  intimidate  him,  sending  him  Avarnings, 
and  making  the  most  sanguinary  menaces.  He  heeded 
them  not,  but  continued  his  labor  on  his  farm,  neither 
seeking  nor  avoiding  quarrels  if  they  were-  thrust  upon 
him.  Before  the  Summer  of  1861  ended,  he  had  several 
rencounters  with  Secessionists,  and  had  been  shot  and 
stabbed  once  or  twice,  but  not  seriously. 

At  last,  so  bitter  Avas  the  feeling  against  Ellis,  that 
numerous  plots  were  formed  to  murder  liim  ;  and  he 
would  certainly  have  fallen  a  victim  to  some  of  them, 
had  the  designs  of  .tjfe  villains  not  been  revealed  to  him 
in  season  for  his  own  security.  Yielding  to  the  solicita- 
tions  of  his  wife  and  friends,  he  quitted  his  home,  and 


DAN   ELLIS,  THE   FAMOUS   PILOT.  411 

resided  in  Kentucky  for  a  wliile,  but  soon  returned  in 
the  capacity  of  guide  or  pilot  to  tliose  wlio  wislied  to 
reacli  our  lines. 

The  qualities  we  have  named  admirably  fitted  him  for 
that  business  ;  and  though  he  frequently  took  charge  of 
parties  of  one  and  two  hundred  at  a  time,  he  alwa}s 
conducted  them  through  safely.  For  many  months  Ellis 
piloted  Unionists  and  Southern  deserters  all  the  ^Y•dy  from 
Carter  County  to  Louisville,  Kentucky ;  and,  after  the 
fall  of  Donelson,  to  Nashville,  Tennessee. 

For  a  year  and  a  half  previous  to  our  meeting  him,  he 
had  beiMi  piloting  parties  to  Knoxville  ;  and  so  well  was 
he  acquaint(3d  with  the  men,  women,  and  children  belong- 
ing to  every  loyal  family  in  "Western  North  Carolina  and 
East  Tennessee,  and  with  every  by-road  antl  bridle-path 
and  mountain  way  and  ford  of  river  and  of  stream,  that 
there  was  little  fear  of  Ids  failing  to  take  tliose  under  his 
guidance  to  their  destination.  Indeed,  those  who  knew 
Ellis  best,  said  the  Captain  had  never  lost  but  one  man, 
and  that  he  was  captured  through  his  own  indiscretion. 

Since  the  beginning  of  the  war,  Ellis,  it  is  said,  has  con- 
ducted to  our  lines  fully  five  thousand  men,  most  of 
whom  would  have  been  forced  into  the  Rebel  service  if 
they  had  remained  in  Secessia.  His  name  is  known  all 
over  Tennessee.  He  makes  regular  journeys  between 
Knoxville  and  Carter  County,  and  the  time  when  he  pro- 
poses to  move  from  his  own  home  to  our  lines  is  under- 
stood for  miles  around.  All  who  want  to  go  join  hi§ 
party  on  the  way,  he  and  liis  experienced  scouts  being 
in  advance,  and  giving  directions  to  the  rest. 

Old  men  and  boys,  conscripts  and  deserters,  sometimes 
27  * 


412  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

women  and  children,  flock  to  Ellis's  cavalcade  as  it  moves 
by,  and  he  takes  the  best  care  of  them,  often  purchas- 
ing provisions  for  those  who  have  not  the  moans.  He 
makes  no  charge  for  his  services,  though  tliey  who  wish 
to  remunerate  him  can  do  so.  He  has  supplied  a  number 
of  soldiers  to  the  Tennessee  Union  regiments,  and  the 
Government  has  paid  him  for  many  that  he  has  furnislied, 
which,  with  the  horses  and  mules  he  buys  and  sells,  and 
not  unfrequently  confiscates,  when  they  prove  the  pro- 
perty of  Rebels,  enables  him  to  live  ;  and  I  understand  he 
has  accumulated  a  fair  amount  of  property. 

The  "Confederates"  have  declared  he  should  not  live 
in  Tennessee  ;  but  he  has  sworn  he  would,  Avhether  they 
like  it  or  not,  and  he  has  kept  his  word.  He  is  often  ab- 
sent from  his  home  in  the  mountains  for  months  at  a  time ; 
but  he  generally  sees  his  wife  and  children  every  few 
weeks,  sometimes  being  compelled  to  steal  into  and  out 
of  the  house.  The  Rebels  have  threatened  to  burn  his 
house  frequently,  but  have  not  carried  their  menaces  into 
execution, — whether  from  the  fact  that  his  wife  is  a  very 
amiable  and  kind-hearted  woman,  though  as  loyal,  and  al- 
most as  courageous,  ^s  her  husband,  or  that  they  fear  the 
vengeance  of  her  liege-lord,  I  cannot  say.  I  presume 
it  is  from  the  latter  reason. 

Ellis'  s  house  has  been  surrounded  a  number  of  times  by 
armed  bands,  on  several  occasions  when  lie  was  there ; 
but  he  has  either  hidden  where  they  could  not  find  him, 
or  gotten  out  surreptitiously,  or  run  the  gantlet  of  their 
fire  without  injury  to  himself.  Few  men  have  had  more 
narrow  escapes ;  though  he  says  the  traitors  have  been 
■trying  to  put  his  light  out  for  four  years,  but  that  he  does 


DAN  ELLIS,  THE  FAMOUS  PILOT.  413 

not  think  lie  'U'as  born  to  be  luii-t  by  them.     He  has  be- 
come a  predestinarian  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term. 

All  Idnds  of  ingenious  plans  have  been  laid  to  entrap 
Ellis,  but  he  has  had  so  many  friends  among  the  people 
Tvlio  -would  give  him  timely  information,  that  he  always 
contrived  to  defeat  the  purpose  of  his  foes.  They  even 
set  a  price  upon  his  head  at  one  time,  and  Rebels  skulked 
about  his  fai-m,  for  weeks,  to  shoot  him.  But,  as  several 
of  them  were  shot  Avliile  they  were  watching  for  Dan, 
they  concluded  it  would  not  be  worth  their  while  to  en- 
gage in  the  business  permanently^  and  at  once  embraced 
safer  and  more  profitable  avocations. 

The  poor  and  loyal  people  of  East  Tennessee  have  a 
most  enthusiastic  admiration  for  Ellis,  and  would  secrete 
him,  or  work  or  fight  for  him,  under  any  circumstances. 
He  has  been  extremely  Idnd  to  them  ever;  has  given 
them  provisions  and  money  when  they  were  in  need  ; 
brought  dresses  for  the  women  and  children,  and  en- 
deared himself  to  the  loyal  community  in  the  most  extra- 
ordinary manner.  They  all  regard  him  as  a  very  near 
friend,  and  if  he  were  to  be  a  candidate  for  any  office  in 
that  section,  I  venture  to  say  he  would  obtain  every  vote 
of  the  laboring  classes. 

The  number  of  adventures  Dan  has  had  would  make  a 
large  and  very  readable  volume.  He  says  little  of  them 
himself;  but  his  companions  informed  me  how  many 
chases  the  Rebels  had  given  him  ;  how  they  had^  emp- 
tied their  cartridge-boxes  at  him  again  and  again  ;  .how 
they  had  shot  through  his  hat,  coat,  and  boots  ;  killed  his 
horse',  and  pursued  him  on  foot  without  injuring  him  seri- 
ously, or  making  him  prisoner.     They  would  not  capture 


414  FOUPw  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

him,  or  if  tliey  did,  tliey  would  dispatch  liim,  as  tliey 
have  often  threatened..  They  sent  him  word,  once,  that 
they  wo^lld  never  talve  liim  prisoner,  unless  he  ceased 
to  assist  "citizens  and  soldiers  of  the  Confederacy"  through 
to  the  Union  lines  ;  and  his  answer  was,  that  he  did  not 
design  to  give  them  any  opportunity  ;  hut  that  he  would 
put  every  Union  man  in  God's  country  who  wanted  to 
go  there,  if  the  Rebels  huilt  a  wall  round  the  State  five 
hundred  feet  high. 

Dan' s  carbine  he  never  allows  to  go  out  of  his  hands, 
sleeping  with  it  in  his  arms,  and  setting  it  at  his  side  when 
he  takes  his  meals.  On  one  occasion  ho  was  pursued  for 
at  least  ten  miles,  through  a  mountainous  region,  and 
had  emptied  his  piece  of  its  sixteen  cartridges  ;  but  still, 
though  his  life  depended  on  his  rapid  flight,  he  would 
not  tliroAv  away  his  beloved  carbine,  heavy  as  it  was, 
and  much  as  it  impeded  his  progress. 

"That  old  gun,"  said  Ellis,  "has  saved  me  a  dozen 
times ;  and  if  the  Rebels  ever  kill  me,  that  carbine  shall 
be  the  last  thing  I  will  hold  on  earth." 

"Give  that  up!  throw  that  away!"  exclaimed  Ban, 
passionately;  holding  up  the  piece  ;  "why,  it's  my  best 
friend  !  I'  d  as  soon  think  of  giving  up  my  wife  as  that 
old  blazer  ;  without  that,  I'd  have  been  under  the  sod 
long  ago.  Oh  no,  I  can't  let  that  go  ;"  and  he  drew  his 
carbine  to  his  breast  as  if  it  had  been  a  woman,  and  his 
keen  gray  eye  glistened  with  emotion  at  the  very  idea  of 
parting  with  so  old  and  faitliful  a  companion. 

During  1863,  Ellis  went  to  Knoxville,  and  was  elected 
Captain  of  a  company  of  one  of  the  loyal  Tennessee  regi- 
ments, mainly  composed  of  men  he  had  brought  through 


DAN  ELLIS,  THE  FAMOUS  PILOT.  415 

the  lines  ;  but  after  being  in  the  service  a  few  months,  the 
Commandant  of  the  post  told  him  he  thought  he  could  be 
of  much  more  advantage  to  the  cause  and  country  by 
resuming  his  old  avocation.  Dan  thought  so  too,  say- 
ing the  Army  was  rather  dull  after  scouting,  and  gladly 
resigned  to  return  to  the  -wilder,  more  exciting,  and  daring 
life  he  had  before  followed. 

Many  of  Ellis's  friends  were  anxious  he  should  remove 
his  fiimily  from  Carter  County  to  Knoxville  ;  but  he  de- 
clared he  would  remain  just  where  he  was.  "  I  worked 
and  paid  for  that  patch  of  ground,' '  he  remarked,  "and 
I'm  going  to  stay  until  the  'Confederacy'  is  moved  down 
to  the  Gulf,  and  towed  out  to  sea  and  sunk  where  there' s 
no  bottom.  What's  the  use  of  my  moving  when  the 
Rebels  are  moving  so  fast?  AVhy,  if  I  were  to  dodge 
around  as  the  'Confederacy'  is  doing,  rolling  up  and 
growing  thinner  every  day,  I'd  have  no  place  to  stand  on 
— not  even  the  last  ditch.  No,  sir,  I  can't  move  a  bit. 
Let  the  '  Confederacy'  move  off  of  my  farm,  where  it  has 
no  business.  I've  only  got  to  stay  there  a  little  while 
longer,  and  there  won't  be  any  'Confederacy'  to  move 
out  of." 

Dan  was  right,  as  recent  events  have  proved. 

No  one  man,  I  venture  to  say,  in  all  Tennessee,  has 
done  more  to  injure  the  Rebels  and  the  Rebel  cause  than 
Ellis.  He  has  taken  away  their  deserters  and  conscripts ; 
spread  disaffection  and  despondency  among  the  half- se- 
cessionists ;  confiscated  their  horses  and  mules ;  bush- 
whacked their  soldiers  and  officers,  and  more  or  less 
demoralized  the  entire  community  in  wliich  he  lived. 

Hundreds  of  persons,  less  strong  and  self-reliant  than 


416  FOUR  YEARS  m  SECESSIA. 

he,  looked  up  to  him  for  support  and  counsel.  When 
the  days  of  the  Republic  were  darkest,  he  bade  them  be 
of  good  cheer ;  when  they  were  about  to  yield  and  go 
over  to  the  enemy,  he  strengthened  their  weak  knees, 
and  pointed  to  a  radiant  future  they  could  not  see. 

One  of  the  insurgent  leaders  said :  "Ellis  is  worse  than 
a  Yankee  regiment,  and  I  would  rather  have  one  stationed 
in  Carter  County  than  have  Dan  there.  Confound  the 
Tory  scoundrel !  he  must  be  in  league  with  the  devil.  We 
have  hunted  him,  shot  at  him,  put  a  price  on  his  head, 
watched  his  house,  and  had  him  surrounded  and  almost 
in  our  hands  a  score  of  times ;  and  yet  he  always  con- 
trives to  give  us  the  slip. 

"  D him  to  H !  I'd  rather  hang  Mm  than  Andy 

Johnson  or  old  Brownlow.  He' s  done  us  more  hann,  I 
believe,  than  both  of  those  Tories,  for  he  comes  right  into 
our  midst,  and  finds  out  what  we  are  doing  ;  and  before 
we  learn  he  is  among  us,  he's  ojff  to  Knoxville  again, 
giving  infonnation  to  the  Yankee  authorities.  If  I  could 
hang  him,  I'd  die  easier,  I  believe  ;  and  I'd  give  my  last 
nigger  for  the  privilege  ;  I  would,  by  Gf ^^!" 


TUE  NAMELESS  HEROINE.  417 


CHAPTER  LIY. 

THE    NAMELESS    HEROINE. — UNDER    THE    STARS    AND 
STRIFES    ONCE    MORE. 

Pursuit  of  the  Enemy. — Alarm  and  Separation  of  our  Party. — Our  Fair  Guide. — 
Her  Appearance  and  Antecedents. — Our  Coutinued  Marcli. — Confiscation  ot 
Horses. — Our  Last  Night  Out. — Sensations  on  Approaching  llie  Union  Lines. — 
Chagrin  of  the  Rebels  at  our  Escape. — Their  Absurd  Stories  about  the 
Departed  Bohemians. 

Early  iu  tlie  afternoon  of  January  10,  ^ve  liear  five  or 
six  of  the  hostile  cavalry  are  in  advance  of  us  only  a  few 
miles.  Ellis  immediately  calls  for  those  who  have  arms 
to  follow  him,  and  away  they  dash  in  pursuit  of  the 
foe ;  while  the  rest  of  us,  who  are  on  foot  and  weaponless, 
trudge  along  the  road  toward  Kelly' s  Gap  in  the  Nole- 
chucky  mountains,  arriving  there  just  l)efore  sunset. 

That  was  the  appointed  rendezvous,  and  EUis  and  his 
party  reached  there  about  dusk,  after  a  long  and  useless 
chase,  and  we  prepared  to  camp  for  the  night.  Dan 
went  to  one  of  the  Union  houses,  a  few  miles  distant,  and 
returned  with  the  infonnation  that  we  were  almost  sur- 
rounded l)y  the  Rebels  ;  that  it  would  be  necessary  for 
the  horsemen  to  separate  from  the  footmen,  so  that  in  the 
event  of  pursuit  the  latter  would  not  be  taken. 

All  was  activity  at  once.  Those  who  had  lain  down, 
in  the  deserted  and  dilapidated  cabins  of  the  abandoned 
plantation   to  which  we    had    repaired,  were  aroused. 


418  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

Horses  and  mules  were  saddled,  fires  extinguislied,  and 
every  preparation  made  for  speedy  departure. 

The  cavalry  -were  to  move  first,  the  infantry  to  fol- 
low, after  the  others  had  gone  far  enough  in  advance. 
Ellis  offered  me  a  mule — Richardson  and  Davis  were 
mounted — but  as  it  had  no  saddle,  and  I  remembered  my 
j)artial  bisection  the  night  Ave  journe3^ed  to  the  Union 
settlement  in  Wilkes  County,  I  respectfully  declined  ; 
preferring  to  walk  rather  than  to  undergo  a  repetition  of 
those  tortures.  I  even  gave  Davis  my  quilt  to  use  as  a 
saddle-cloth,  and  bade  my  friends  good-by,  fully  expect- 
ing to  see  them  again  in  the  morning,  at  the  furthest. 

After  they  had  been  gone  about  half  an  hour,  a  scout 
named  Treadwa}^,  who  had  been  placed  in  charge  of  the 
footmen,  told  us  to  fall  in  ;  that  we  were  to  cross  a 
mountain  and  descend  mto  a  ravine,  where  we  would 
camp  until  the  next  night. 

"But  where  are  we  to  meet  the  other  party  ?"  inquired 
I.  "  O,  we  Avon't  see  them' again  until  Ave  reach  Knox- 
ville,  if  Ave  eA^er  have  the  good  luck  to  get  there." 

We  had  learned  the  day  before,  that  all  the  stories 
about  our  forces  being  at  Greenville  and  other  adjacent 
points  were  Avithout  foundation  ;  that  our  lines  Avere 
at  Strawberry  Plains,  fifteen  miles  East  of  Knoxville  ; 
and  that  Ave  must  go  there  before  we  could  have  any 
hope  of  freedom. 

That  Avas  nearly  a  hundred  miles  farther,  and  the  in- 
telligence was  rather  disheartening,  for  Ave  had  been 
imagining  our  journey  Avas  nearly  at  an  end.  No  doubt 
many  of  us  felt  like  the  North  Carolinian  of  the  party, 
who  had  been  in  prison  nearly  three  years,  when  asked 


THE  NAMELESS   HEROINE.  419 

if  lie  was  tired.  "Tired?"  echoed  lie,  with  a  mingled 
air  of  disgust  and  contempt.  "AVliy  this  would  wear 
out  an  iron  man.'' 

The  reply  of  the  scout :  "We  won't  see  them  until  we 
reach  Knoxville,"  smote  on  my  heart  like  the  sound  of 
ni}'  death-knell. 

Seiiaration  fi'ora  my  friends — the  three  companions 
with  whom  I  had  escaped,  with  Avliom  I  had*  endured  so 
much  in  prison  and  on  the  march  to  freedom — seemed  a 
calamity  I  could  not  bear.  It  foreshadowed  to  me  every 
thing  gloomy  and  horril)le — reca^jture,  dungeons,  despair, 
and  death. 

And  while  I  stood  there  in  the  darkness — not  to 
advance  for  twenty-four  hours — they  were  ever}^  minute 
hurrying  aAvay,  making  the  distance  greater  between  us. 
They  are  going  to  freedom,  I  thought,  and  I  am  left 
behind.  My  doom  is  written.  Liberty  is  not  for  me. 
I  shall  perish  here  in  these  mountains,  and  the  few  Avho 
feel  an  interest  in  me  will  never  know  my  fate. 

Materially  considered,  too,  I  had  lost  my  quilt,  which 
had  saved  me  much  suffering,  and  I  was  penniless,  my 
Bohemian  T)rotliers  having  all  the  money  there  was  in 
our  x>^^rty. 

The  record  in  my  note-book  is  :  "I  have  no  more  hope 
now  of  getting  through  ;  yet  will  I  do  my  utmost,  and 
compel  the  strong  spirit  to  rule  the  weak  tlesh.  I  ^vill 
march  till  I  fall  fainting  on  the  road  from  hunger,  (;old, 
and  exhaustion.  I  am  resolved  never  to  give  up.  Still 
am  I  most  worn,  weary,  and  wretched  ;  and  all  my  dark 
views  of  Human  Life  and  Experience  come  up  mentally 
darker  and  grimmer  than  before." 


420  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

The  pedestrians  proceeded  to  the  ravine,  and  built  a 
"big  fire ;  the  Aveather  was  too  cokl  to  sk^ep.  We  were 
hungry,  having  had  nothing  to  eat  for  twenty-four  hours, 
and  there  was  little  jn-ospect  of  gettjng  any  thing. 

The  scout  went  off  somewhere,  and  left  us  alone,  most 
of  the  party  Ibeing  ignorant,  silly,  coarse,  imprudent  fel- 
lows— mere  children  in  character,  whom  I  could  not 
induce  to  s^md  picket,  or  act  cautiously  about  any  thing. 
They  disgusted  me  greatly,  and  I  saw  there  was  little 
safety  Avith  such  simpletons. 

The  scout  returned,  having  visited  a  number  of  Union- 
ists, who  reported  us  in  a  very  dangerous  vicinity  ;  that 
we  yet  had  many  perils  to  encounter,  and  must  be  ex- 
tremely cautious  if  we  wanted  to  reach  our  lines.  The 
worst  of  our  perils,  it  seemed  to  me,  were  hunger,  cold, 
and  exliaustion. 

About  noon  wo  had  an  alarm  from  some  Rebel  cavalry, 
who  passed  along  a  road  so  near  us  that  we  distinctly 
heard  their  words.  Supposing  they  had  seen  us,  we  pre- 
cipitately left  our  camp  fire,  and  ran  up  the  mountain 
in  fine  confusion.  After  running  at  high  speed  for  some 
hundreds  of  yards,  I  paused  to  observe  if  any  one  was 
foUoAving  us ;  and  perceiving  no  one,  I  called  out,  and 
we  all  stopped  ;  then  reconnoitered  ;  tlien  returned  to  our 
camping-place.  The  fire  of  dry  wood  was  still  l)urning 
in  the  chilly,  crisp  air,  and  several  haversacks  and 
blankets,  left  in  the  rapidity  of  retreat,  lay  there  undis- 
turbed. It  was  evident  the  enemy  had  not  known  of 
our  whereabouts,  and  had  passed  on  unconscious  of  our 
presence. 

Toward  evening  I  began  to  be  resigned  to  my  new  sit' 


THE   NAMELESS   HEROINE.  421 

uation,  having  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  the  sep- 
aration between  me  and  my  companions  woukl  j)revent 
the  probability  of  tlie  recapture  or  extermination  of  all 
of  lis.  Tlie  fate  of  Tlie  TrUnuiie  Correspondents  was  at 
least  likely,  under  existing  circumstances,  to  be  different. 
If  Mr,  Richardson  were  retaken,  I  might  get  through ; 
if  I  were  retaken,  he  might. 

Just  b(?fore  leaving  the  ravine  the  scout  obtained  some 
provisions  for  us,  wliich  we  enjoyed  after  our  long  fast. 
We  then  started  at  a  break-neck  pace  over  the  ridges, 
falling  every  few  hundred  yards  so  violently  that  I  mar- 
veled some  of  us  did  not  break  our  limbs.  Once  my 
knee  came  in  contact  "with  the  root  of  a  tree  so  forcibly  that 
it  seemed  shattered,' and  I  did  not  recover  from  the  sore- 
ness and  lameness  occasioned  by  the  fall  for  days  after. 

About  sunset  our  party  was  on  the  summit  of  a  ridge 
looking  down  into  the  valley  where  resided  a  girl  who, 
the  night  previous,  had  guided  Dan  Ellis  and  his  com- 
panions, by  a  private  path,  out  of  the  way  of  the  Rebels 
believed  to  be  in  the  vicinity.  For  more  than  an  hour 
we  sat  there  watching  the  house  in  which  she  lived,  and 
seeing  ten  or  twelve  Rebel  cavalrymen  ride  up  to  the 
dwelling,  and  then  depart  in  squads  of  two  or  three.  At 
dusk  we  descended  to  the  valley  cautiously,  and  met  her 
at  the  appointed  place,  mounted,  and  ready  to  act  as  our 
guide.  That  girl,  not  more  than  sixteen  or  seventeen, 
belonging  to  one  of  the  stanchest  loyal  families  in  East 
Tennessee,  was  known  to  all  the  Unionists  in  the  county. 
She  had  assisted  many  true  men  out  of  awkward  pre- 
dicaments and  dangerous  situations,  and  had  shown 
herself  willing  at  all  times  to  aid  them.     She  had  often 


422  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

arisen  at  night  wlien  she  obtained  intelligence  of  impor- 
tance, and  communicated  it  to  loyalists  some  mih's  dis- 
tant, prev(Miting  tlieir  capture  or  murder  by  -tlie  enemy. 

Ellis  had  known  her  from  childhood,  and  depended  on 
her  for  information  whenerer  he  was  anywhere  in  lier 
neighborliood.  Slie  had  told  him  the  preceding  night  of 
the  presence  of  the  enemy,  and  recommended  the  divi- 
sion of  his  band,  as  pursuit  was  possible  ;  assuring  him 
that  she  would  guide  the  footmen,  as  she  would  Imn,  if 
they  would  be  at  a  cei-tain  place  at  a  certain  liour. 

The  girl,  whose  name  I  will  not  give — tliough  I  can 
state,  for  the  benefit  of  tlie  romantic,  that  it  is  a  pretty 
one,  and  would  sound  well  in  a  novel — was  decidedly  ftiir, 
intelligent,  of  graceful  figure,  and  possessed  of  that  indis- 
pensable requisite  to  an  agreeable  woman — a  sweet  voice. 

I  confess  I  looked  at  her  with  some  degree  of  admira- 
tion as  she  sat  there,  calm,  smiling,  comely,  with  the 
warm  blood  of  youth  flushing  in  her  cheek,  under  the 
flood  of  mellow  moonlight  that  bathed  all  the  landscape 
in  poetic  softness  and  picturesque  beauty. 

It  was  natural  that  almost  any  man  of  gallantry  and 
Imagination  should  idealize  her,  under  the  circumstances  ; 
but  I  did  not. 

I  gazed  at  her  as  I  do  at  most  of  lier  sex,  with  tlie  cold 
eye  of  Art,  and  at  the  unvarying  angle  of  aesthetic  criti- 
cism. 

That  scene  was  a  good  theme  for  a  picture.  The  girl 
mounted,  and  the  central  figure,  with  some  eighteen 
men  in  lialf  military,  half  civil  garb,  with  bronzed  faces 
and  a  certain  wild  appearance,  travel-stained,  ragged, 
anxious-eyed,  standing  around  her  in  groups,  listening 


THE   NAMELESS   IIEIIOINE.  423 

to  vrhat  she  said  in  a  low  hut  earnest  and  pleasantly- 
modulated  tone 

She  gave  directions  as  qidetly  and  composedly  as  a 
veteran  commander  in  the  held,  requesting  us  to  keep 
some  distance  behind  her  ;  saying  that,  if  she  were  halted, 
we  should  stop,  and  lie  down ;  that,  when  all  was  safe, 
she  Avould  cough  ;  and  that,  if  she  saw  any  danger,  she 
would  sneeze  to  give  us  warning. 

All  ready,  she  struck  her  horse,  a  spirited  animal,  and 
darted  off  at  a  pace  that  we  pedestrians  could  hardly 
sustain,  even  running.  Confound  that  girl !  I  thought. 
"What  does  she  rush  along  at  this  rate  for  1  I  have  not 
had  much  experience  in  following  in  women's  lead  ;  and 
if  this  is  a  specimen,  I  want  no  more  of  it. 

We  were  out  of  breath,  all  of  us,  and  had  fallen  so 
often  in  our  haste,  that  we  were  suffering  from  numerous 
bruises  and  abrasions ;  but  she  dashed  on  mercilessly, 
dragging  us  after  her. 

I  reached  her  side  once,  and  told  her  to  go  a  little 
slower  ;  that  we  were  greatly  fatigued,  and  that  some  of 
us  must  fall  hopelessly  behind  if  she  did  not  check  her 
pace.  She  drew  in  her  rein  until  those  who  had  been 
nearly  distanced  came  uj),  and  then  only  walked  her 
impatient  steed  for  the  remainder  of  the  distance. 

She  guided  us  seven  miles  through  woods  and  ravines, 
over  mountains  and  along  valleys,  away  from  the  fre- 
quented roads  and  paths,  until  we  came  to  a  long  bridge 
over  the  Nolechucky  River.  "We  were  fearful  that  might 
be  guarded.  So  we  waited  on  ojie  side,  while  she  crossed 
to  the  other.  If  she  went  on,  we  were  to  follow.  If  she 
stopped,  we  were  to  wait  on  the  ridge  where  we  lay  con- 


424  FOUR  YEARS  IIS'  SECESSIA. 

cealed  until  she  returned  to  tell  us  what  was  in  the 
way. 

Silently  we  crouched  on  the  frosty  ground,  hearing  her 
horse's  hoofs  ring  out  clearh^  and  sharply  upon  th<'  cold 
night  on  the  planks  of  the  bridge.  But  no  challenging 
voice  greeted  our  attentive  ear.  j^  The  bridge  must  be 
unobstructed,  we  thought,  as  the  hoofs  grew  fainter  and 
fainter ;  and,  at  last,  when  they  were  no  longer  audible, 
we  knew  she  was  on  the  road  riding  toward  her  sister's 
house — as  she  had  told  us  she  would — and  that,  her  mis- 
sion accomplished,  we  had  parted  '^vitll  .our  fair  guide, 
and  would  s(3e  her  no  more. 

For  the  sake  of  my  romantic  readers,  if  I  have  any,  I 
wish  I  could  relate  the  occurrence  of  some  sentimental 
scene  between  one  of  the  Bohemians  and  the  nameless 
heroine.  It  would  look  well  on  paper,  and  read  well, 
too  ;  but,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  neither  of  my  fellow-jour- 
nalists exchanged  a  word  with  her  the  night  before  ;  and 
as  for  myself,  my  only  feeling  toward  her  was  one  of  irri- 
tation at  her  extreme  haste,  and  my  sole  words — "Do  go 
a  little  slower !" 

Nothing  like  sensational  coloring,  and  sentimental 
glitter  in  composition.  If  I  were  not  a  conscientious 
journalist  and  a  veracious  historian,  I  should  relate  a 
parting  interview  Avith  the  fair  stranger  much  after  the 
manner  of  Contarini  Fleming's  separation  from  the  pretty 
gipsy. 

I  should  tell  how  I,  or  somebody  else,  took  her  hand, 
and  kissed  her  lips  in  the  moonlight,  and  saw  the  tears 
start  to  her  eyes  ;  how  my  heart,  or  some  other  person's 
heart,  beat  wildly  for  a  moment,  as  that  vision  of  beauty, 


THE   NAMELESS   HEROINE.  425 

more  beautiful  in  its  sorrow,  beamed  upon  the  wintry, 
Luna-lighted  niglit,  and  tlien  faded  away  forever. 

But,  as  nothing  of  the  kind  occurred,  I  shall  say  no- 
thing of  the  kind.  I  shall  only  wish  the  dear,  devoted 
girl  the  truest  and  tenderest  of  lovers,  and  tlie  brightest 
and  happiest  of  lives.  Upon  her  youthful  head  may  the 
choicest  benisons  of  Heaven  fall  unstinted  !  ISIay  violets 
of  beauty  and  lilies  of'  sweetness  bloom  ever  in  her  path- 
way, and  fill  with  fragrance  all  her  coming  days. 

What  was  remarkable  about  the  girl  was,  that  none  of 
the  Rebels  suspected  her  of  giving  active  aid  to  the  Union- 
ists. They  knew  she  was  loyal ;  indeed,  she  did  not  deny 
her  loyalty  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  told  them  her  sympathies 
were  all  with  the  North,  and  her  most  earnest  wishes  for 
the  suppression  of  the  Rebellion. 

She  said  what  she  pleased  with  impunity.  She  was 
young,  pretty,  and  intelligent.  Everybody  liked  and 
petted  her  as  if  she  were  a  child,  when  she  had  the 
feelings,  the  earnestness,  the  convictions  of  a  woman ; 
and,  from  her  openness  and  candor,  they  presumed  she 
told  them  all  she  did.  They  never  dreamed  of  her  secret 
excursions,  her  nightly  expeditions,  her  communications 
witli  their  enemies. 

The  Southern  officers  were  half  in  love  with  her,  and 
told  her,  with  great  indiscretion,  all  their  plans  and  ex- 
pectations, never  imagining  she  would  make  use  of  them, 
which,  of  course,  she  did  most  effectually.  No  doubt, 
being  feminine,  and  possessing  feminine  tact,  she  encour- 
aged her  admirers  sufficiently  to  elicit  from  tliem  what 
information  she  needed,  and,  in  that  way,  was  enabled  to 
be  of  invaluable  service  to  her  friends. 


426  FOUR  YEARS   IN"  SECESSIA. 

For  nearly  four  years,  she  had  devoted  her  time  to  the 
service  of  the  Republic  ;  had  risked  her  liberty,  perhaps 
her  life  ;  had  acted  the  heroine  on  the  stage  of  our  great 
National  Drama  without  the  least  self-consciousness,  or 
any  other  inducement  than  her  attachment  to  the  cause. 

Her  parents  were  in  comfortable  circumstances,  quite 
wealthy,  indeed,  for  that  region,  and  had  given  her  a  very 
fair  education,  and  some  accomplishments  whicli  were 
very  remarkable  for  a  girl  reared  in  the  rural  regions  of 
the  South.  Slie  had  been  petted  and  flattered  by  Seces- 
sionists of  both  sexes,  who  had  in  vain  attempted  to 
seduce  her  from  her  allegiance  ;  but  she  ever  remained 
true  to  her  country,  and  to  those  who  befriended  it  in  the 
time  of  its  extremest  need. 

That  she  may  some  day  be  generously  compensated  in 
a  higher  than  material  form  for  her  services,  is  my  earnest 
hope  and  desire ;  though  I  feel  assured  that  recent  events, 
establishing  the  integrity  of  tlie  Republic,  will  be  to  her 
the  most  precious  reward  she  could  receive. 

After  leaving  the  heroic  girl  we  marched  seventeen 
miles,  camping  on  top  of  a  mountain  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  kindling  a  fire,  wIk'u  I  crept  under  a 
blanket  that  one  of  my  companions  kindly  offered  me. 

Before  reaching  our  camp,  I  had  been  an  involuntary 
witness  and  apparent  sharer  in  an  enterprise  which  I  did 
not  anticipate  and  could  not  countenance.  The  scout 
who  was  our  guide  had  heard  that  a  notorious  Rebel  was 
a)ii».the  house  of  his  father-in-law,  and  accordingly  went 
there  in  search  of  him.  He  told  us  to  surround  the 
house,  and  we  did  so — for  what  purpose  I  did  not  know. 
He  then  began  beating  on  the  door,  and  crying  to  the 


THE  NAMELESS   HEROINE.  427 

"d d  scoundrer'— that  was  the  mildest  of  his  epi- 
thets—to come  forth,  or  he  would  blow  out  his  brains. 

An  old  man  and  woman  came  to  the  door,  and  declared 
their  son-in-law  was  not  at  home.  They  were  greatly 
frightened,  and  I  felt  very  sorry  for  them,  and  would  not 
have  seen  them  hurt  if  I  could  have  prevented  it.  No  one 
threatened  them  ;  but  many  of  the  Tennesseeans  swore 
and  bellowed  so  loudly,  that  I  do  not  wonder  the  poor 
people  were  alarmed. 

"Where  are  that  d d  traitor's  horses?"  was  roared 

out  a  dozen  times  in  a  quarter  of  a  minute.  The  old  man 
showed  the  way  to  the  stable,  and  in  a  brief  while  the 
two  animals  were  bridled  and  saddled,  and  two  of  the 
Tennesseeans  on  their  backs  riding  away. 

The  horses  belonged  to  the  Rebel,  who  was  an  officer 
in  some  guerrilla  band,  and  no  doubt  ought  to  have  been 
confiscated,  but  I  could  not  reconcile  myself  to  the  con- 
fiscation, whicli  seemed  to  me  very  much  like  vulgar 
horse-stealing  ;  and  I  inwardly  determined,  if  my  fellow- 
travelers  designed  making  a  general  business  of  that  de- 
partment of  fine  art,  that  I  should  separate  from  them, 
and  journey  towards  freedom  on  my  own  account. 

I  had  quitted  Salisbury  to  obtain  liberty,  not  horses  ; 
and  it  did  not  appear  that  my  prospects  for  the  former 
would  be  materially  augmented  by  any  acquisition  of  the 
latter.  Fortunately,  however,  there  were  no  more  confis- 
cations on  the  route  ;  and  consequently  I  had  no  occasion 
to  put  my  determination  in  practice. 

That  equine  appropriation  was  about  the  last  adventure 
we  had.  At  dusk  on  the  evening  of  January  12,  we 
set  out  for  RussellviUe — eighteen  miles  distant — crossing 

28  ^ 


428  FOUR  YEAES  IX  SECESSIA. 

Lick  Creek,  and  passing  into  the  corner  of  Hawkins  and 
into  Granger  Counties  before  four  o'clock  tlie  following 
morning. 

We  struck  the  Virginia  and  East  Tennessee  Railway  at 
Cheek's  Cross  Roads,  and  walked  at  a  rapid  rate  to  our 
camp,  where  we  bivouacked.  We  learned  after  dawn  that 
Ellis's  party  were  safe,  and  had  camped  where  Ave  were 
the  night  previous.  Our  guide  told  me  that  the  coming 
night  (Friday,  January  13th)  would  probably  be  the 
last  we  would  be  out ;  I  truly  hoped  so.  My  boots  were 
worn  out ;  my  attire  in  rags ;  my  nervous  system  sti'angely 
sensitive,  and  perhaps  deranged,  from  absence  of  sleep 
and  constant  exertion,  with  long  fasts  and  perpetual  anx- 
iety. Yet  I  felt  a  degree  of  strength  and  freshness  that 
was  extraordinary,  under  the  circumstances.  I  was  calm 
withal,  and  unagitated,  although  freedom  seemed  so  near 
at  hand.  Indeed,  the  idea  of  Liberty  I  could  not  realize 
— it  seemed  too  great  a  blessing  to  be  enjoyed.  I  often 
asked  myself:  "  Shall  I  indeed  see  the  dear  old  flag,  and 
breathe  the  free  air  of  the  North  once  more  ?" 

AVe  had  nothing  throughout  Friday  but  a  little  corn, 
which  we  parched  in  the  ashes  of  our  camp-fires,  until 
just  before  setting  out,  when  we  procured  the  best  meal 
we  had  had.  The  Tennessee  scout  accompanied  us  until 
we  struck  the  railway  again,  and  there  left  us,  having,  as 
he  said,  some  important  business  to  transact  on  the  mor- 
row. 

Always  before,  Freedom,  as  I  have  said,  had  seemed  too 
blissful  to  be  realized ;  but  when  I  found  myself  within 
one  night' s  march  of  our  glorious  destination,  I  could  no 
longer  doubt  that  on  the  morrow  I  might  plant  my  foot 


UNDER  THE  STARS   AND  STRIPES.  429 

on  loyal  soil,  and  again  beliold  the  glitter  of  Union  bay- 
onets. 

I  was  filled  with  a  new  life  :  I  could  not  be  restrained  : 
my  blood  tingled :  my  pulses  leaped :  my  whole  being 
glowed. 

Rapidly  I  walked  along  the  broken  railway.  The 
mile- stones  seemed  to  whiii  by  me  as  if  I  were  on  an 
express-train. 

The  wind  was  from  the  North — keen,  cutting,  penetra- 
ting ;  I  loved  it  because  it  was  from  the  North — and  I  still 
was  very  thinly  clad. 

But  I  felt  not  the  low  temperature  :  a  blast  from  an  ice- 
berg would  not  have  chilled  me. 

Within  me  was  the  sacred  fire  that  has  made  martyrs 
and  heroes  through  ages, — the  fire  which  the  love  of 
Liberty  has  lighted,  and  which  will  burn  forever. 

My  companions,  fatigued  and  exhausted  and  half- 
frozen,  fell  off  one  by  one,  and  in  little  squads.  But 
a  single  man  remained,  a  tall,  stalwart,  muscular  fellow  ; 
and  he  declared  he  would  go  with  me  to  the  end. 

On,  on,  on  we  went,  faster,  faster,  faster. 

The  mile- stones  still  whirled  by  like  ghosts  of  departed 
fears  and  expired  miseries. 

Colder  and  colder  blew  the  wind ;  but  it  was  more 
grateful  than  breezes  from  Araby  the  Blest.  The  night 
was  dark  and  lowering ;  but  to  me  the  heavens  were 
lighted  as  with  an  auroral  splendor. 

Tlirough  the  encompassing  shadows  I  fancied  visions 
of  beauty  and  landscapes  of  delight.  The  arid  plain 
blossomed  with  association,  and  the  bow  of  promise 
spanned  every  accomplished  mile. 


430  FOUR  YEAES  m  SECESSIA. 

Just  before  the  dawn,  the  fires  of  the  Union  pickets 
crimsoned  the  somber  sky  in  our  front,  and  a  few  minutes 
of  hurried  striding  brought  us  Avitliin  the  voice  of  the 
challenging  sentinel. 

"Who  comes  there  ?" — "  Friends  without  the  counter^ 
sign — escaped  prisoners  from  Salisbury,"  was  the  an- 
swer. "All  right,  boys  ;  glad  to  see  you,"  again  awoke 
the  silence ;  and  I  walked  witliin  the  lines  that  divided 
Freedom,  Enlightenment,  Loyalty,  from  Slavery,  Bigotry, 
Treachery ;  was  once  more  an  American  citizen,  emanci- 
pated, regenerated,  and  disenthralled. 

Still  from  habit  I  looked  to  the  West,  whither  the  pole 
of  my  spirit  so  many  anxious  days  had  pointed,  and  I 
beheld  there,  as  in  the  East,  the  coming  dawn,  typified 
in  the  dawn  of  a  better  and  prouder  day  for  the  Republic 
after  its  purifying  baptism  of  blood ;  and  saw  the  star 
that  all  along  our  toilsome  march  had  beamed  toward  us 
as  the  harbinger  of  the  glorious  to-morrow,  when  the  tide 
of  War  that  has  swept  over  the  regenerated  Nation  will 
have  washed  clean  as  polished  amethyst  the  Slavery- 
stained  record  of  ninety  years. 

*  *  *  *  -jt  *  * 

Some  weeks  after  our  arrival  in  the  North,  we  learned 
that  all  kinds  of  stories  were  in  circulation  in  the  Peni- 
tentiary about  our  escape.  One  was  that  a  Rebel  Gen- 
eral had  come  for  us  in  a  carriage,  and  borne  us  away — 
quite  after  the  manner  of  the  good  princes  in  the  Fairy 
Tales ;  another,  that  we  had  obtained  Southern  officers' 
uniforms  and  passed  the  guard ;  a  third,  that  we  had 
bribed  the  sentinels ;  a  fourth,  that  we  had  tunneled  out ; 
and  I  know  not  how  many  more,  all  of  them  equally  untrue. 


UNDER  THE  STARS  AND   STRIPES.  431 

As  many  of  those  stories  came  from  liead-quarters,  no 
doubt  tliey  were  believed  by  the  Rebel  officers  there, 
who  probably  had  no  correct  idea  of  our  mode  of  exit. 

They  seemed  greatly  agitated  on  the  subject,  and  made 
every  effort  to  recapture  us ;  sending  out  scouts  to  tlie 
East  and  West ;  believing,  I  presume,  that  we  had  gone 
directly  to  Newbern  or  !Morganton. 

We  lay  over  the  first  night — Tuesday — that  we  got  out, 
and,  on  the  third  night  after  the  commencement  of  the 
march,  quitted  the  railway  near  Statesville ;  and  to  one 
of  those  facts,  perhaps,  we  owe  our  avoidance  of  the 
scouts,  who,  however,  hardly  attempted  to  travel  after 
dark,  as  we  did  almost  constantly. 

When  the  scouts  ^-eturned*  to  the  Penitentiary,  after 
their  unsuccessful  search,  some  of  the  Rebel  officers,  both 
in  Richmond  and  Salisbury,  declared  we  had  been  caught, 
and  sent  farther  South  ;  while  others  SAVore  we  had  been 
shot  by  guerrillas.  They  seemed  very  unwilling  to  admit 
that  we  had  gotten  through,  even  after  the  Richmond 
papers  had  published  the  fact ;  and  from  the  tenacity 
with  which  they  had  held  T/ie  Tribune  Correspondents, 
it  was  natural  they  should  feel  a  little  chagrined  that 
we  were  fairly  out  of  their  clutches. 

With  thanks  to  none  but  ourselves  we  did  re-obtain 
our  liberty,  making  the  journey  from  Salisbury  to  Knox- 
ville  in  eighteen  traveling  days,  being  the  best  time  on 
record  by  the  over-the-mountains-pedestrian-prisoner-line 
— one  of  the  least  convenient  and  comfortable  routes 
while  in  progress,  but  the  most  satisfactory  and  delight- 
ful after  its  completion,  in  the  known  World. 


432  FOUR  YEARS  IX   SECESSIA. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

THE  SOUTH   AND  THE  WAR. 

The  Popular  Idea  of  the  South. — Its  Fallaciousness. — Character  of  the  South- 
erners.— Their  Best  Society. — Slavery  and  its  Pernicious  Influence. — The 
Real  Cause  of  the  Rebellion. — The  Great  Revolution  in  Public  Opinion. — Dis- 
graceful History  of  the  Past. — Our  National  Atonement. 

The  popular  idea  of  the  South  in  the  North  is,  or  used 
to  be,  rather,  as  singular  as  erroneous.  The  South  was 
excessively  idealized,  even  in  the  ^linds  of  persons  little 
troubled  with  imagination.  They  believed  the  country 
lying  the  other  side  of  Mason  and  Dixon' s  line,  espe- 
cially the  Cotton  States,  the  home  of  Refinement  and 
Culture,  Beauty  and  Luxury,  Elegance  and  Ease. 

Pew  Northern  travelers  had  journeyed  to  or  dwelt  in 
the  farther  sections  of  the  South ;  and  those  who  had, 
had  done  so  to  little  purpose,  seeing  with  the  eyes  of 
people  among  whom  they  went,  rather  than  with  their 
own. 

Southerners  had  gasconaded  so  persistently  and  per- 
petually about  their  sunny  homes,  their  floral  fields, 
their  orange  groves,  their  statue-bordered  walks,  their 
sparkling  fountains,  and  thek  palatial  residences,  with 
many  other  highly  colored  phrases  that  might  have 
dropped  out  of  Claude  Melnotte's  sophomorical  descrip- 
tion of  the  Lake  of  Como,  that  those  who  heard  and  read 
what  they  said,  actually  believed  them  literally. 


^  THE   SOUTH  AND   THE   TVAK.  433 

Kortlierners,  living  in  a  region  comparatively  unfertile, 
to  be  sure,  but  cultivated  and  useful,  productive  and 
picturesque  far  beyond  that  of  their  rodomontadic 
iieiglibors,  really  began  to  think,  even  came  to  the  set- 
tled conviction,  that  they  were  little  blessed ;  that  their 
school-houses  and  academies  and  daily  newspapers  and 
galleries  of  art  went  for  nothing,  brought  in  juxtaposi- 
tion with  the  sandy  cotton  and  unwholesome  rice-liclds, 
tli(^  miasmatic  marshes  and  muddy  lagunes  of  the  Gulf 
States. 

They  knew  there  were  fine  men  and  lovable  women 
among  the  hills  of  New  England  and  on  the  prairies  of 
the  great  West ;  but  the  most  exquisite  gentlemen  and 
the  most  charming  ladies  must  be  sougfit  in  the  Southern 
plantations. 

Marvelous  mistake,  extraordinary  delusion !  The  liun- 
dreds  of  thousands  of  our  soldiers  who  have  "invaded" 
Dixie  have  had  ample  opportunities  to  undeceive  them- 
selves since  the  War.  They  have  found  out,  what  the 
unbiased  and  observing  found  out  long  before,  that  the 
South  is  a  large  sham ;  that  the  beauty  of  its  scenery, 
the  generosity  of  its  j^eople,  the  splendor  of  its  homes, 
the  luxury  of  its  surroundings,  exist  only  in  the  imagin- 
ation ;  that  negroes  and  indolence,  swagger  and  igno- 
rance, are  the  poor  bits  of  glass  which  have  assumed  such 
attractive  forms  in  the  kaleidoscope  of  Fancy. 

Of  course  there  are  a  few  genuine  gentlemen  and  ladies 
in  the  South — or  were  at  least,  before  the  War — who  are 
such  in  spite,  not  on  account  of  the  peculiar  institution  ; 
whom  even  that  great  wrong  and  unnatural  condition 
have  not  blunted  or  brutalized. 


•13 i  FOUR   YEARS   IN   SECESSIA. 

But  as  for  the  many,  wliat  are  tliey  ? 

Uneducated,  coarse,  ignorant,  vulgar  people,  who  have 
no  idea  of  comfort  or  convenience  ;  but  live  in  wretclied 
cabins,  on  pork,  corn-bread,  and  hominy,  thanking  God 
they  are  not  negroes,  but  having  no  conception  of  a 
higher  or  worthier  existence. 

Even  the  oligarchs,  the  privileged  few,  who  hold 
slaves,  and  rule  the  whites  as  thoroughly,  though  in  a 
different  way,  as  they  do  their  human  chattels,  have  little 
to  boast  of. 

They  have  wealth  and  education,  generally.  They 
have  expanded  their  area  of  observation.  They  have 
been  in  the  ISTorth,  and  sometimes  in  Europe.  They 
have  learned  tli^re  is  a  AVorld  outside  of  plantation 
limits  and  negro  quarters.  They  are  as  broad,  perhaps, 
as  men  can  be  who  are  born,  and  reared,  and  pass  their 
lives  in  the  midst  of  Slavery  and  its  narrowing  and 
blighting  influences. 

Yet,  their  best  Civilization  is  of  a  mediaeval  character. 
Compared  to  the  free  North,  they  are  a  half  a  century 
behind  the  age.  They  are  semi-barbarians.  Their  gen- 
erosity is  carelessness  ;  their  hospitality,  vanity  ;  their 
frankness  a  lack  of  self-discipline ;  their  bravery  i^hys- 
ical  rather  than  mental,  and  fostered  by  a  false  stand- 
ard of  honor  and  a  pernicious  notion  of  chivalry. 

The  virtues  that  appertain  to  them  are  the  virtues  of 
an  imperfectly  developed  race,  and  peculiar  to  their  form 
of  society.  Tliey  are  self-loving  to  a  degree  of  morbidity  ; 
amiable  and  anxious  to  be  agreeable  while  they  are  whee- 
dled and  flattered ;  but  impatient  of  contradiction  and 
restraint,  and  violent,  unjust,  and  cruel  when  opposed  or 


THE  SOUTH  AND  THE   WAT^.  435 

thwarted,  even  by  those  they  have  assumed  to  regard  as 
their  dearest  friends, 

Tliey  are  a  little  more  than  intelligent  barbarians,  the 
best  of  them  ;  nor  is  it  strange,  when  we  reliect  that  they 
are  ever  exposed  to  the  baleful  influences  of  Slavery. 

What  can  be  expected  of  men  who  found  their  ideas 
of  superiority  upon  theii"  elevation  above  an  ignorant, 
persecuted,  servile  race,  who  are  in  the  liaT)it  of  beat- 
ing, or  seeing  beaten,  men,  women,  and  children ;  of  in- 
dulging theu-  basest  passions  Avith  the  unfortunate  females 
who  dare  not  oppose  their  desires ;  and  in  whose  embraces 
they  degrade  themselves  even  more  than  the  sable  partners 
of  their  lust. 

Respecting  the  mode  of  living,  how  unwise  they  are ! 
They  have  profusion,  but  not  propriety ;  liberality,  but 
not  taste  ;  abundance,  but  not  fineness.  Nothing  is  com- 
plete with  them.  Elegance  and  fitness  are  things  un- 
known, and  aught  like  harmony  is  ignored. 

Their  dwellings,  grounds,  furniture,  and  table  show  this. 
Tliere  is  ever  somewhat  lacking  in  one  place,  and  some- 
what of  excess  in  another.  N'othing  is  finished  ;  nothing 
is  repau'ed.     The  trail  of  the  negro  is  over  them  all. 

They  imbibe  all  the  defects  of  the  slaves,  with  none  of 
their  virtues.  They  seem  indeed  to  be  ruled,  rather  than 
the  ruling  race,  since  they  take  hue,  and  tone,  and  habit, 
from  their  dusky  bondsmen.  They  have  their  deceitful- 
ness,  indolence,  animalism,  and  even  their  accent. 

On  them,  and  their  section,  the  negro  is  indelibly 
stamped,  and  all  their  interests,  purposes,  and  performan- 
ces are  made  subservient  to  the  peculiar  institution.  It 
is  that  which  has  mildewed  the  South,  which  has  drained 


4o(j  FOUR  YEARS  IN"  SECESSIA. 

the  spirit  of  progress,  and  has  made  her  the  disloj-al, 
purblind,  violent  wrong-doer  she  long  ago  became,  and 
•which  generated  in  her  the  culminating  folly  and  crime 
of  Secession. 

I  remember,  when  the  War  first  broke  out,  a  Virginian 
of  education  and  wealth,  and  a  slaveholder  in  Missouri, 
but  still  a  Unionist,  who,  deprecating  the  Rebellion,  told 
me  how,  in  that  State,  every  interest  had  been  made  sub- 
servient to  Slavery, 

When  the  thinking  and  progressive  people  wanted 
schools,  the  Pro- Slavery  party  opposed  the  measure, 
because,  if  they  had  schools,  they  must  have  tAichers, 
and  teachers  must  be  brought  from  the  Abolition  Free 
States. 

When  manufactures  were  advocated  in  Missouri,  they 
were  decried,  because  the  operatives  must  be  Northern- 
ers, and  haters  of  the  peculiar  institution. 

Railways  were  unpopular  with  the  men  who  afterward 
blossomed  into  Secessionists,  for  the  reason  that  the 
roads  would  furnish  facilities  to  fugitive  slaves  for 
escape. 

So,  through  and  for  Slavery,  every  measure  for  the 
development  and  prosperity  of  the  State  was  discour- 
aged, misrepresented,  and  counteracted  as  far  as  possible, 
and  all  advocates  of  reform  and  advancement  denounced 
as  Abolitionists.  The  history  of  Missouri  has  been  the 
history  of  every  other  Southern  State,  except  that  the 
feeling  of  opj)osition  and  the  determination  to  stagnancy 
have  been  augmented  in  the  Cotton  regions. 

Slavery,  from  the  beginning,  has  been  the  curse  of  the 
Republic,  and  the  sole  cause  that  threatened  its  dissoln- 


THE  SOUTH  AND   THE  WAR.  437 

tion.  It  is,  and  always  was,  this  very  War  in  a  state  of 
suppression.  No  one  need  say  tliat  the  Rebellion  has 
proved  the  impracticability  of  self-government.  It  has 
merely  proved  that  two  irreconcilable  elements — two 
utterly  different' systems  of  labor,  engendering  opposite 
customs  and  conditions  of  society — must  sooner  or  later 
clash,  and  struggle  witli  each  other  for  the  mastery. 

All  the  talk  and  theories  in  the  Rebel  papers  about  the 
difference  of  race — about  the  Cavaliers  and  Puritans — 
in  the  early  settlers  of  Southern  and  Northern  States,  is 
the  merest  gallimatia.  The  only  difference  there  is 
between  the  two  sections  has  been  made  by  Slavery. 

And  as  to  the  War,  it  was  certain  to  come.  Every 
possible  effort  was  made  to  stave  it  off— as  the  history  of 
our  compromises — compromises  too  often  of  principle 
■with  temporary  interest — abundantly  shows  ;  but  human 
endeavor  was  useless.  The  cause  lay  deeper  than  it  was 
thought,  and  could  not  be  reached  by  public  enactments 
or  plausiT)le  harangues. 

Our  forefathers,  for  mere  expediency,  had  compromised 
with  a  palpable  injustice,  a  grievous  wrong ;  and  we 
were  compelled  to  pay  the  penalty.  They,  no  doubt, 
regarded  Slavery  as  a  temporary  thing,  which  would  be 
abrogated  in  the  South,  as  it  was  in  the  North,  after  a 
few  years. 

They  did  not  see — nor  could  any  one  then  have  seen — 
■what  an  inunense  interest  cotton  would  become,  tlirough 
the  invention  of  the  cotton-gin,  and  hoAV  millions  of 
people  would  be  made  insane,  by  consulting  what  they 
conceived  to  be  their  pecuniary  advantages. 

To  Slavery — and  it  alone — we  may  justly  ascribe  aU 


438  FOUR  YEARS  IX   SECESSIA. 

the  calamities   of  the   Nation,    all  the   horrors   of  this 
War. 

The  loyal  people  did  not  perceive  this  at  first ;  but  now 
their  minds  have  been  illumined  by  remorselessly  logical 
events  and  indubitable  facts.  Hence  they  have  grown 
Abolitionists  ;  not  so  much,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  out  of 
their  sympathy  with  the  negroes,  as  out  of  a  cold  and 
calm  consideration  that,  inasmuch  as  Slavery  gen«^rated 
the  Rebellion,  there  never  can  be  a  permanent  peace,  so 
long  as  any  part  of  the  territory  embraced  within  the 
United  States  is  cursed  with  the  power  to  hold  human 
beings  in  bondage.  So  feeling  and  believing,  they  have 
determined  to  have  no  more  of  it,  and  they  have  done 
wisely. 

"\^ery  useless  and  idle  is  it,  therefore,  to  speculate  on 
the  immediate  causes  of  the  War. 

Mr.  Lincoln's  election  was  made  the  pretext  by  the 
South  ;  but  if  the  advocates  of  State  Rights  had  not  had 
that  pretext,  they  would  have  found  another.  They  had 
remained  in  the  Union  so  long  as  they  held  the  political 
power. 

When  they  lost  it — when  they  saw  the  progress  of  the 
Anti- Slavery  sentiment  had  been  such  that  they  never 
could  hope  to  regain  what  had  slipped  away  from  them, 
they  resolved  to  destroy  the  Government  they  could  no 
longer  control.  They  tried  it,  and  they  have  destroyed 
— themselves. 

What  a  wonderful  revolution  has  taken  place  in  public 
opinion  in  a  few  years  !  Few  of  my  readers,  I  fancy, 
who  do  not  remember  when  the}^  would  have  felt  grossly 
insulted  if  they  had  been  called  "Abolitionists."    But, 


TIIE  SOUTH  AND  TEi:   WAK.  439 

I  opiii(\  tliore  are  still  fewer  at  present  who  are  not  proud 
to  know  that  they  are  Abolitionists. 

That  once  huge  bugbear  has  lost  its  power  to  frighten. 
Men  art'  no  longer  children,  to  be  terrified  by  a  word. 
The  term  of  odium  lias  become  an  expression  of  ^i raise ; 
and  men  of*  this  age  and  generation  will  be  proud  to  say, 
in  the  future  :  "I  was  an  Abolitionist  in  the  days  of  the 
great  Rebellion." 

The  scales  have  but  begun  to  fall  from  the  eyes  of  the 
peoi:)le.  They  have  just  commenced  to  perceive  the 
anomaly,  the  anachronism,  the  enormity  and  crime  of 
Slaver}'.  "The  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the 
brave,"  shouted  on  every  possible  occasion,  for  half  a 
century,  and  containing  the  most  bitter  satire  on  the  in- 
stitutions of  the  country,  means  something  at  last ;  and 
an  American  can  sing  it  now  without  a  shame. 

Unborn  generations  will  wonder  at  the  fact  that  the 
model  Republic,  for  nearly  a  century,  not  only  permitted 
Slavery,  but  went  down  on  its  knees  before  the  Slave 
power,  and  prayed  for  a  deeper  humiliation. 

WTiose  cheek  does  not  tingle  when  he  thinks  for  how 
long  a  time  the  North  succumbed  to  the  South  ;  how  long 
its  representatives  in  Congress  were  insulted,  bullied, 
and  even  assaulted,  for  words  spoken  in  debate  ;  how 
long  its  Press  played  the  sycophant,  and  groveled  in  the 
dust  that  the  Slave  State  leaders  shook  with  disgust  from 
their  feet  ? 

No  history  of  a  great  Nation  is  more  disgraceful  than 
ours  was  for  the  twenty-five  years  previous  to  the  War. 
Thank  Heaven  !  it  will  never  be  repeated,  and  that  we 
bore  all  the  ignominy  and  shame  to  preserve  the  Repub- 


440  FOUR  YEARS  IX  SECESSIA. 

lie  and  the  Constitution  as  w^  received  tliem  from  those 
we  had  heen  tauglit  to  honor  as  something  more  than 
mortal. 

If  we  were  too  conservative  and  reverential,  it  was 
only  natural.  AYhen  the  first  gun  from  Sumter  sounded, 
our  false  scruples  were  scattered.  We  all  bet'ame  icono- 
clasts. Right  tlien  began  to  rule  over  Precedent,  and 
Justice  grew  stronger  than  Authority. 

We  liave  atoned  for  the  errors  of  the  Past  by  tlie 
sacrifices  of  the  Present.  We  liave  hidden  the  fatal 
blunder  of  our  ancestors  behind  the  glory  of  our  struggle 
for  a  people  degraded  and  enshived. 

We  have  lifted  the  age  of  romance  and  chivalry  to  a 
Mght  it  never  knew,  from  the  time  of  Coeur  de  Lion  to 
Francis  I.,  by  a  long,  obstinate,  unyielding  war,  not  for 
an  idea  only,  but  for  humanity  and  freedom,  for  the  yery 
principle  that  underlies  the  foundations  of  our  Repub- 
lic. 


TUE  FUTURE  OF  THE  SOUTH.  441 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE  FUTURE  OF  TUE  SOUTH. 

Its  Undeveloped  Resources. — Its  "Wealthy  Planters  and  the  Xorthern  Fannera. — 
Slave  Labor  and  its  Defects. — The  Blighting  Efll'ct  of  the  Peculiar  Institution. 
— Contrast  between  the  Free  and  Slave  States. — Occupation  of  Secessia  by 
the  Yankees. — The  Changes  Consequent  Thereupon. — The  Much-Yexed  Xegro 
Question. — The  Rights  of  the  Freedman. 

It^J"  tlie  preceding  cliapter,  I  have  spoken  of  the  un- 
developed resources  of  the  South ;  of  the  uncomfortable 
manner  of  living  there ;  of  the  lack  of  accommodation 
and  ea-se  among  the  people;  which  all  wlio  have 
traveled  in  what  has  since  the  War  received  the  name  of 
Secessia  must  have  observed. 

The  people  were  contented  enough,  with  their  slender 
means  and  small  resources,  because  they  had  no  higher 
ideas  of  living ;  because  they  had  not,  to  any  extent, 
obtained  a  loftier  standard  from  communication  with  the 
North. 

The  prosperous  and  educated  Southerners,  having 
visited  our  leading  cities  and  principal  watering-places, 
of  course  learned  something  ;  and  their  knowledge  was 
made  apparent  by  the  improved  order  of  architecture 
and  laying-out  of  grounds  which  began  to  reveal  them- 
selves, particularly  a  few  years  before  the  Rebellion. 


442  FOUR  YEARS  IN  SECESSIA. 

Yet,  as  I  have  remarked,  tliere  was  almost  ahvays  a 
lack  of  completeness  aud  taste,  even  in  the  houses  of  the 
wealthiest  planters — a  kind  of  barbaric  profusion  without 
fitness,  a  sort  of  ostentation,  without  a  just  adaptation  of 
means  to  the  end. 

A  species   of   coarseness  ran  through  their  mode  of 
living  ;  and  one  witnessed,  in  the  dwellings  of  the  cotton 
lords  and  sugar  barons,  less  genuine  comfort  and  elegance  ^ 
than  could  be  found  in  the  far  less  pretentious  homes  of 
New  England,  New  York,  or  Ohio  farmers. 

All  the  labor  was  performed  by  negroes,  and  conse- 
qu(^ntly  but  half  done.  No  reforms  were  introduced, 
and  no  changes  made.  All  the  improved  methods  of 
agriculture,  the  new  implements,  the'  advantageous  inno- 
vations of  the  North,  were  neglected  at  the  South,  and, 
where  they  were  knoAvn,  were  regarded  suspiciously,  as 
the  result  of  Yankee  ideas,  and  therefore  not  to  be 
adopted. 

If  patent  plows,  reapers,  thrashing-machines,  or  what 
not  were  introduced  at  the  South,  they  soon  got  out 
of  order,  on  account  of  the  ignorance  of  the  slaves,  and 
were  of  course  never  repaired. 

The  South  did  very  little,  until  compelled  by  necessity, 
to  establish  manufactures  of  any  kind,  because  they  de- 
pended wholly  upon  the  inventive  genius  and  extra- 
ordinary energy  of  the  "Yankees." 

The  South  was  purely  agricultural,  and  they  believed 
they  could  do  better  by  raising  cotton,  rice,  tobacco,  and 
sugar,  than  by  attempting  to  make  mills,  engines,  or 
locomotives. 

They  could  not  summon  practical  energy  enough  to 


THE  FUTURE   OF  THE  SOUTH.  443 

furnish  for  tliomselves  wluit  the}'  iioedeil,  and  tliey 
lacked  the  inventive  faculty  almost  altogether. 

They  had  untold  Avealth  at  their  very  doors,  in  coal, 
iron,  lead,  and  other  minerals ;  3^et  in  very  few  of  their 
States  -were  the  mines  -worked  to  any  extent. 

"Whatever  passed  into  their  possession  seemed  affected 
by  the  mildew  of  Slavery.  A  splendid  carriage,  pur- 
chased "by  a  jilanter  in  the  North,  would  very  soon  lose 
its  polish  and  freshness,  very  probably  a  hub,  and  two 
or  three  spokes ;  and  these  Avould  hardly  be  replaced. 

A  fine  set  of  harness  would  soon  part  company  with 
some  of  its  buckles,  which  would  be  supplied  with  a 
broken  twig  and  a  tow  string. 

A  beautiful  span  of  horses,  all  symmetry,  mettle,  and 
sleekness,  would,  in  a  few  weeks  after  exchanging 
owners,  appear  rough,  lean,  and  broken  down. 

Babiecas  would  be  transformed  into  Rosinantes, 
almost  as  suddenly  as  Cinderella's  mice  into  prancing 
steeds. 

A  grand  piano  required  but  a  brief  sojourn  in  a 
Southern  home,  to  be  deprived  of  its  gloss  and  its  tone, 
and  mayhap  one  of  its  legs. 

And  so  with  every  thing  else.  Importation  from  the 
North  to  the  South  proved  destructive  to  fine  qualities, 
material  as  well  as  mental. 

Unremunerated  compulsoiy  labor  manifested  itself  in 
every  part  of  the  South,  in  the  way  of  stupidity,  blun- 
ders, and  inexcusable  carelessness. 

\yiio  that  has  ever  steamed  down  the  river,  between 
Kentucky  and  Ohio,  needed  to  be  told  which  State  was 

free,  and  which  was  Slave?    On  one  bank,  neat,  comfort- 

2d 


444  FOUR   YEAPwS  IX  SECESSIA. 

able  dwellings  and  stirring  farms  looked  across  the  beau- 
tiful river  at  i)Oor  cabins  or  dilaj^idated  frame  tenements, 
with  uncleared  lields,  jiartially  tilled,  as  if  they  won- 
dered at  the  unfinished  appearance  of  their  opposite 
neighbors. 

In  descending  the  Mississippi,  low,  bleak,  and  barren 
are  the  shores  of  the  mighty  stream,  with  their  unvarying 
sand  and  their  ghastly  cotton-woods  !  Even  after  reach- 
ing the  coast  country  below  Baton  Rouge,  the  much- 
talked-of  beauty  disappoints  him  sorely.  It  is  an  agree- 
able contrast  to  what  met  his  eye  above,  and  to  that  fact 
I  have  always  attributed  the  exaggerated  notion  of  the 
delightfulness  of  the  Louisiana  coast. 

When  the  Rebellion  is  crushed ;  when  Slavery  no 
longer  blights  the  soil  of  the  South  ;  when  that  section  is 
settled,  as  it  will  be,  by  a  new  people,  possessed  of  in- 
dustry, energy,  and  perseverance,  how  metamorphosed 
all  that  region  will  be  ! 

The  "barbarous  Yankees''  will  supersede  the  chival- 
rous sons  of  the' Cavaliers,  and  desert  places  will  blossom 
like  the  rose.  The  mining  and  agricultural  interests  will 
be  developed  to  their  fullest,  and  wealth  will  be  jDoured 
into  the  lap  of  the  new-comers. 

Elegant  villas,  such  as  adorn  the  Hudson,  will  beam 
out  of  handsome  groves,  and  marble  fountains  will 
sparkle  where  turbid  pools  have  stood  poisoning  the 
atmosphere,  and  diffusing  fever  and  ague  to  aU  the 
country  round. 

Factories,  and  school-houses,  and  graceful  churches, 
will  rise  where  cabins  crumbled,  and  hay-ricks  grew 
moldy  in  the  pestilential  air. 


THE   FUTURE   OF  THE   SOUTH.  445 

Tlie  song  of  cheerful  laborers  will  go  gladly  up  to 
Ileaveu  Avhere  the  dusky  Slave  bent  to  his  irksome  toil 
beneath  the  overseer's  lash. 

The  South,  in  that  not  distant  future,  "will  be  actualized 
into  the  ideal  through  which  it  has  been  seen. 

I  perceive  it  now,  fruitful  and  glorious  because  of  its 
freedom ;  gathering  the  harvest  of  abundance  after  its 
long  period  of  bondage  has  passed  away  forever. 

Then,  indeed,  will  it  be  the  sunny  South — sunny  with 
sweet  associations  and  happy  memories ;  beautiful  with 
peace  and  benison  ;  grand  with  its  history  of  an  emanci- 
pated race  and  a  regenerated  Republic. 

Very  many  of  us  have  perplexed  ourselves  with  the 
question,  so  often  asked  me  W' hile  a  prisoner,  What  will 
we  do  with  the  negroes?  '\^Tiat  will  we  do  with  the 
Rebels?  is  the  first  and  most  important  interrogatory. 
That  once  settled — and  it  seems  rapidly  settling — the 
other  will  arrange  itself  in  due  season,  as  do  all  other 
things,  by  the  force  of  Circumstance  and  the  consequence 
of  Universal  Law. 

Nothing,  however,  let  me  remark,  seems  more  incon- 
sistent and  irrational  than  the  supposition  that  the 
negroes,  who  have  for  generations  raised  the  products  of 
tlie  South,  while  enslaved,  will  be  unable  to  do  so  when 
emancipated. 

The  theory  of  the  necessity  for  compulsory  labor  is  a 
false  one. 

There  is  no  human  creature  living,  black  or  white,  who 
can  not  work  as  well,  and  far  better,  when  free  than 
when  in  bonds ;  when  he  has  the  genuine  instincts  of 
manhood  in  his  breast,  in  place  of  the  haunting  and  hope- 


446  FOUR   YEARS   IN^   SECESSIA. 

less  conviction  of  pei-petual  slavery ;  when  he  is  cheered 
with  a  golden  future  instead  of  "being  burdened  with  a 
rayless  past. 

To  declare  the  contrary  is  the  worst  form  of  doubt,  the 
darkest  shade  of  disbelief,  the  repudiation  of  Nature  and 
her  generous  promptings. 

"Whatever  the  ftite  of  the  Rebels,  the  land  tliey  once 
j)ossessed  will  not  be  destroyed ;  and  the  freedmen  can 
certainly  till,  with  their  unshackled  hands,  the  soil  they 
have  watered  Avith  their  scalding  tears  and  bloody 
sweat. 

The  experiment  will  doubtless  be  tried,  and  it  will  be 
proved  that  the  jield  of  rice  and  tobacco,  and  sugar  and 
cotton,  under  the  new  system,  will  be  far  greater  than. 
under  the  old  and  degrading  one. 

The  climate  of  the  South  is  favorable  and  congenial  to 
the  negro.  Why  should  he  not  remain  there  if  he  so 
elects  ? 

Let  him,  in  the  name  of  justice  and  humanity,  reap 
something  of  the  harvest  for  which  he  has  suffered  and 
fought,  has  bled  and  died ! 

The  true  principle  of  a  free  Government  is  to  give 
every  man  a  chance,  whatever  his  station  or  antecedents. 
That  we  will  give  to  the  negro,  as  his  right.  Iso  bugbear 
about  negro  equality  will  deter  the  people  from  meting 
out  to  the  emancij^ated  slave  the  long-demanded  jus- 
tice of  making  to  him  that  late  atonement  for  what  the 
country  has  compelled  him  to  endure. 

The  man  who  fears  the  African  mil  become  his  equal, 
must  have  a  shuddering  conviction  within  that  he  merely 


CONCLUSION.  447 

needs  an  opportunity  to  become  such.  Away  with  the 
"base  apprehension  ! 

The  World  was  given  to  us  all,  to  do  the  best  work  of 
which  we  are  capable  ;  to  try  for  its  rewards  ;  to  make 
endeavors  for  its  happiness. 

Unworthy  and  ungenerous  is  he  who  asks  what  he  is 
unwilling  another  should  have. 

Life,  Liberty,  and  the  Pui-suit  of  Happiness,  are  our 
natural  rights,  the  African' s  as  well  as  the  Caucasian's; 
and  I,  for  one,  welcome  the  negro  on  the  threshold  of 
his  new  career,  and  bid  him  God  speed  in  whatever  he  is 
able  honestly  to  obtain! 


CONCLUSIOlSr. 

"While  this  volume  has  been  in  press,  and  the  proof- 
sheets  liave  been  undergoing  revision,  the  great  Rebellion 
has  been  hastening  to  its  close,  and  may  now  be  consid- 
ered fairly  ended.  Few  weeks  in  ancient  or  modern 
times  have  been  more  eventful,  more  prolific  of  History 
than  those  of  April  and  ^fay,  1865. 

AVhen  tlie  first  chapters  of  this  book,  which  were  very 
irregularly  furnished,  were  written,  the  Rebellion  still 
looked  extremely  fonnidable,  and  caused  very  grave 
doubts  whether  it  might  not  survive  the  year,  and  linger 
on  until  the  returning  spring  ;  whether  thousands  of  lives 


448  POUR   YEARS  IN   SECESSLi. 

might  not  "be  required  for  sacrifice  upon  the  altar  of  the 

Republic  before  the  colossal  insurrection  was  completely 
crushed. 

Thanks  to  Fortune,  those  days  of  darkness  and  anxiety 
and  doubt  have  gone  forever.  The  dawn  has  come  at  last. 
After  that  long  and  fearful  night,  shaken  with  tempest, 
and  pregnant  with  terror,  watched  with  throbbing  hearts 
and  suspended  breath  by  every  loyal  American,  tlie  sun 
of  Freedom  has  re-arisen,  and  its  glory  is  streaming  over 
a  regenerated  Land. 

Within  a  few  weeks,  Richmond,  the  key-stone  of  the 
arch  of  the  bastard  "  Confederacy,"  has  crumbled  ;  Lee, 
the  head  and  front  of  traitorous  opposition,  has  surren- 
dered, and  Johnston,  and  Taylor,  and  others  of  less  im- 
portance, have  imitated  his  example  through  force  of 
necessity. 

Amid  all  the  radiance  of  A^ictory  there  was  a  sudden 
eclipse.  In  the  highest  hour  of  rejoicing  a  chill  was 
struck  to  every  gladdened  heart. 

The  Chief  of  the  Nation,  the  great  and  good  man  who 
had  steadily  and  conscientiously,  and  skillfully  guided 
the  Country  through  the  terrible  trial  of  battle,  fell  a  mar- 
tyr to  Freedom  by  the  hand  of  an  assassin,  a  desperate, 
but  wretched  tool  in  the  hands  of  his  masters  in  treason 
and  in  crime.  He  fell,  but  not  an  hour  too  soon  for  his 
glory :  his  cup  of  honor  Avas  full :  his  immortality  was 
determined  ;  and  if  it  had  not  been,  the  explosion  of  the 
murderous  pistol  would  have  rendered  it  secure. 

While  the  Republic  still  weeps,  th^  death  of  tlie  assas- 
sin, and  the  capture  of  the  arch  traitor  (Jefferson  Davis), 
are  announced.     There  seems  a  destiny  in  all  the  closing 


CONCLUSION.  449 

scenes  of  the  grand  drama  wliicli  for  four  tlirilling  years 
has  kept  possession  of  the  AnKTican  stage,  and  held  all 
civilizod  Xations  in  ])ainful  suspense. 

It  appears  as  if  no  feVic  of  the  Rebellion  Avere  fated  to 
escape  ;  as  if  no  part  of  the  vast  crime  against  Nature  and 
Liberty  -were  to  be  left  unanswered  for  ;  as  if  all  the  vile 
falsehoods  of  the  enemy  were  to  be  exposed  beyond 
capacity  to  doubt,  and  his  braggart  insolence  and  ridicu- 
lous swagger  forever  liumbled  in  the  dust. 

"WTiat  a  bitter  mortification  it  must  be  to  the  Southern- 
ers who  for  fifty  years  have  filled  the  air  with  their 
vaporings,  and  disgusted  the  World  with  their  assump- 
tions;  who  have  arrogantly  claimed  superiority  of  race 
and  civilization  ;  who  have  heaped  all  manner  of  abuse 
upon  the  Free  States  and  their  citizens ;  to  know  and  feel 
that  they  have  been  completely  defeated,  utterly  subju- 
gated by  the  stout  hands  and  brave  hearts  of  the  people 
they  had  affected  to  despise  ! 

Where  now  is  all  that  rant  about  the  impossibility  of 
•conquering  eight  millions  of  free  people  born  on  horse- 
back, and  destined  to  rule  ?  Where  is  the  last  ditch  ? 
Where  are  all  the  men,  women,  and  children  Avho  were  to 
die  so  delightedly  and  so  melo-dramatically  before  they 
would  submit  to  the  ' '  Yankee' '  yoke  ? 

Tell  me,  gentle  shepherd  ;  tell  me  where  ! 

Very  glad  ought  we  of  the  loyal  North  to  be,  that  we 
are  not  Rebels ;  that  we  are  this  day  spared  the  galling 
consciousness  that  we  owe  our -wretched  lives  to  the  mag- 
nanimity of  t*lie  Nation  we  have  sought  to  destroy.  I 
should  think  our  foes  would  seek  some  remote  corner  of 
the  world  and  hide  themselves  from  the  public  gaze,  and 


450  FOUR   YEARS   IX   SECESSIA. 

from  private  scorn  ;  that  tlicy  would  beg  the  earth  to 
swallow,  and  the  mountains  to  cover  them. 
^  Never  was  so  vast  a  bubble  as  that  of  the  psendo  Chiv- 
alry pricked  before  ;  never  was  such  pompous  assump- 
tion so  effectually  extinguished  ;  never  was  such  lofty 
arrogance  so  deeply  humiliated.  Give  the  Rebels  their 
wish  at  this  iinal  hour — all  but  the  prominent  loaders — at 
least,  and  leave  them  alone.  If  they  do  not  go  and  hang 
themselves — and  they  wont  by  any  means — they  are  as 
devoid  of  sensibility  and  a  sense  of  fitness  as  they  are  of 
chivalry  and  shame. 

The  end  of  the  War  has  been  obtained.  The  Republic 
has  fullfilled  its  destiny.  Slavery,  the  plague-spot  upon 
the  fair  body  of  our  Country,  is  dead,  and  no  trumpet, 
though  it  were  an  angel's,  can  awake  it  to  resurrection. 

America  for  the  first  time  is  trul}^  free.  For  the  first 
time  her  people  can  sing  her  national  songs  without  a 
blush ;  and  the  poorest  of  her  sons  can  declare :  "I  am 
an  American  !"  with,  not  uncovered  head,  but  with  mein 
erect,  and  a  glow  of  purest  satisfaction  before  the  proudest 
potentates  of  the  admiring  world. 


THE   END. 


t* 


KAKK  BOOK 
COI.I.IXTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THK 

UNIVKRSn  Y  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 


Wilmer 
165 


